


SHE-RA OF THE PRINCESS ALLIANCE

by Runeless



Series: Catra of Brightmoon [3]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Adora Remains with the Horde (She-Ra), Alternate Universe - Catra is She-Ra, Crimson Waste, F/F, F/M, Horde Adora (She-Ra), Season 3, catra is she-ra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23238199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Runeless/pseuds/Runeless
Summary: Catra, also known as She-Ra, goes to the Crimson Waste... and Adora follows, both chasing truths that will change their world forever.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Entrapta/Hordak (She-Ra)
Series: Catra of Brightmoon [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1538323
Comments: 33
Kudos: 181





	1. Catra in the Crimson Waste

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back! This will be two parts, then Season 4, and then May 15- SEASON 5! AWW YEAH!

**SHE-RA OF THE PRINCESS ALLIANCE**

**Catra in the Crimson Waste**

They return home, after visiting Bow's parents- and Catra wants to see them again, she makes Bow promise to see them whenever he can, and to take her with him. She cannot help it, she is so entranced by them, by the... _something_ in their home that she's never seen before, the warmth and the love. To be a good parent is a difficult task, it is an accolade that so very many, both the great and the small, fail, all to often... but Lance and George have earned the right to call themselves fathers honestly and in full.

And Catra... _wants_ that, she wants... she wants to be called daughter, by someone who _cared_ , who _loved_ her, the way Bow is so very _loved_.

She knows it is... wrong, to try and steal these scraps of parental affection from her friends. She is a great leech for it, there is a pit in her that can never be filled; and it is awful, to repay these people who have made her _happy_ by sucking precious time with their parents away from her friends.... but she cannot help it. It is in her nature to steal, she's a natural-born thief, and that hasn't changed now; she used to steal safety from Adora's position of privilege in the Horde, and now she steals parental affection from Bow and Glimmer in the Alliance...

She didn't change _that_ much, when she made her choice.

Still, she limits herself. She can't _not_ do it, she's tried... and while Catra knows she is sucking precious time away from her friends, she cannot help it, she hungers and she seeks to be full... but still, she _can_ limit herself to only a bite or two of this precious feast. Just a little bit, a nibble.

She did change _that_ much, when she made her choice.

They head back, to figure out what to do now- Glimmer says she'll present the plan to the Queen, and while Catra's not sure Glimmer's the best person to do that- too many old frustrations bubbling up to the surface when she and her mom talk tactics- she interferes enough in their family, and so chooses simply to get some supper, shower, and sleep, in that order.

-

That night, when she is back in Brightmoon's safety, Catra sleeps in her large, comfy bed. It is the smallest of the good things in her life, now that she has a people who love her, but it is a sign of how things have changed for her; no longer must she sleep in Adora's bed, not just for the comfort being near Adora brought her, but because if she was in Adora's bed she was less likely to be attacked in the night. In Brightmoon, she can sleep safe and sound in her own bed.

Or so she has thought.

In the middle of the night, something cold and dark wakes her up, and when she arises, she finds Shadow Weaver standing over her, hand outstretched.

Catra screams and kicks Shadow Weaver in the face, knocking the witch out cold- but she doesn't know it, because the second she kicks her, she is moving, grabs the sword and flees, yelling for the Queen even as she transforms into She-Ra, fleeing one of her nightmares come to life.

-

The worst night of Catra's life is this: she waits, in Brightmoon, where she thought she was _safe_ \- but here is Shadow Weaver, _Shadow Weaver is in Brightmoon_ , in this place of safety her abuser was able to reach her sleeping form and loom over her bed. That was half her childhood nightmares right there, Shadow Weaver over her, ready to choose life or death, with Catra able to do nothing to sway the decision.

She stays away, Queen's order- stay away from Shadow Weaver, at least until they knew more.

She sticks with Bow and Glimmer, who teleported in when they heard her yelling. She sits between them in Glimmer's room as the Queen and her guards take charge, Bow on one side and Glimmer on the other, and her friends are the loose threads by which she climbs her way back to peace from her panic, clinging to the Sword of Protection in her white-knuckled hands like a security blanket.

Neither of her friends say anything about her terror, just sit with her, but they cannot help but see her terror. First Ones, she's _shaking._ Catra, trembling; and that frightens them more than anything else, tells them more about Shadow Weaver than a hundred stories could. Catra stood before Brightmoon to defend it from all the Horde's armies, and she did not shake like this...

But knowing that Shadow Weaver is close, that Shadow Weaver almost touched her, turns the mightiest warrior of Brightmoon into a shivering child. It frightens them... and redoubles their resolve. Glimmer grows furious, wants to punch Shadow Weaver's lights out; Bow's empathy draws him to put an arm around Catra, which she leans into gratefully.

They stay with her, calming her down, as guards come by and update them from time to time; and when she finally starts to settle, Glimmer finds the courage to ask Catra how she feels, and everything pours out of her friend's mouth.

-

“ How'd she get in here?” Catra asked, her voice rough with fear. “ How... this is Brightmoon!”

“ Some guards were out cold outside,” Glimmer said. “ Shadow Weaver's a really powerful sorceress... that's all it is, really.”

“ We need to be better, she could have... she could have...”

Catra stopped and shook, and Bow tightened up his one-armed hug; she leaned into it, let out a long, slow breath.

“ What... what has she done to you?” Glimmer asked. “ What are you afraid she'd do?”

“ I...” Catra looked at her, eyes wide, and she _almost_ trusted her... but how to begin? Glimmer, for all her fights with her mother, has never experienced what Catra has, would she even _believe_ it? And Bow, he _definitely_ wouldn't, his fathers are too good for him to... to even begin to believe what Catra could say.

What was she to say? _Every day of my life in my youth, I feared she'd kill me. I'm alive because Adora protected me._ _She raised me and she taught me and she has never cared for me at all._

Would they even understand, either of them?

_I love her despite everything. I want my mother to love me and she doesn't. The very thing that raised me hates me, and I don't know how to deal with that, how can I?_

How could they?

So Catra swallowed it down. No, to these children of light, she would not tell all the darkness of her beginning. Even if they believed her... she didn't want them to know, she didn't want this beautiful place to be tainted with the shadow of her abuse. She didn't want them to look at her and... and think of what she would have to say to them. Their understanding, their love, that was terribly sweet to her; but their pity, it might be poisonous.

“ It doesn't matter,” Catra said, eyes narrowing back to the more familiar slits, guarded and scrutive, and Glimmer _knew_ that wasn't healthy, she wanted to prod her noble, sarcastic leader until she told the truth that hurt her so... but she didn't know how to handle it, the shining princess more comfortable with her fists than with her words.

Bow, across, filed it away as something to talk about later- not now, the wound too close and too open... but later.

Instead, he said, “ Hey, Catra, you're... a bit rattled. Do you need anything? Or, you know, if you just want something, we can get it for you.”

She barked a harsh, ugly laugh at that, a sound of regret and not amusement.

“ I want a lot of things, Bow... I... no. Don't worry about it. You can't get them for me.”

She was silent then, just holding on to the Sword, as her friends stayed with her.

-

Bow's words are as accurate as his arrows- his question hits the heart of it.

Does she want something?

Oh, _yes_.

The problem isn't that Catra doesn't have an answer; the problem is that she has too _many_. She wants many things, and most of them... most of them don't go together.

She wants to kill Shadow Weaver- that one's pretty prominent right now, because she's scared.

She wants to pull a mother alive out of her, undo whatever happened and hope that Light Spinner will love her the way Shadow Weaver didn't. That one, it never goes away, it's always there in the back, even now, as scared as she is... she wants her mother to love her.

She wants to cure her of the spell cast on her and castigate the woman inside for her abuses. Light Spinner might be innocent but... but _someone_ should know how Catra has been hurt, someone should be yelled at for it.

She wants Shadow Weaver to hug her, and tell her she's sorry. Not Light Spinner, whom she has never known, but Shadow Weaver herself, to tell her she's sorry and that she loves her. She would... she would do a lot, to hear those words.

She wants.

-

“ Catra, Shadow Weaver came her for you,” the Queen said, gently, to the girl sitting between her daughter and brave Bow, curled up around her Sword for protection, looking like the child she really was, not the mighty warrior spoken of across the Alliance.

( Angella's heart shattered in her chest at the sight of Catra's downturned ears and lowered eyes, at the hurt in this generous, heroic girl, who had saved her daughter and her people both... who had saved _her_ , who had leapt before enemy fire and taken the hit so that she might live. Angella will not stand for this, she feels her coward's spine stiffen into steel; Catra is too high in her esteem to be made little by anyone, especially some shadowy parasite. Where courage fails, love suffices.)

“ I... how'd she get in?” Catra said, still shaken.

“ She knocked some guards out,” Angella said. “ She was a powerful sorceress... but she's weak now. She's contained.”

Catra nodded, but Angella felt as if she'd failed her by the mere fact that Shadow Weaver got in at all. She'd have to change the guard patrols. Shadow Weaver should _not_ have been able to get in...

“ What did she want?” Catra asked, despondent. Angella's heart riled up at that sight; brave Catra should not be so _reduced_.

“ It doesn't matter,” Angella said. “ She isn't getting it. She will be kept away from you, and she will _never_ hurt you again. I promise you this.”

The Queen slipped into Angella's voice, but it was not a cold or imperious tone; no, there was something bright and warm and fiercely loving in it, something that perked Catra up, made her little ears rise up at the sound. Something like a mother bear's protective growl, in that declaration of protection, and Catra's trembling slowed and stopped at the sound of it.

Glimmer hugged Catra. “ That's right, she won't hurt you.”

Bow joined in- and at Glimmer's unsubtle urging, Angella hugged her too.

It was a sign of how much Catra needed it that it took her a few seconds before she protested all the touchy-feely stuff.

-

Catra does what the Queen wants, of course. An order from Angella is sacred- more sacred, now, after those words and that hug, that... _love_ , that Catra so wants, to be looked at by an older person and _protected_.

Still, Angella eventually comes to speak to her, two days later. Angella makes the decision to tell her the truth, mostly due to being at wit's end for what to do, emphasizing that Catra has a right to refuse.

Shadow Weaver is dying; Catra has no idea how she feels about that, except that she feels too many things, she feels too much, at those words. Shadow Weaver is dying, and her heart races to know that fact.

( _Die so I can be free of you; live, because I love you. Live, so I can rub your face in all the glories I have won in the Alliance; die, so you can do me no more harm. Die, so I don't have to feel all these things anymore; live, and love me, and say you're sorry._ )

She feels so much that, when the opportunity arises, Catra, hesitantly, asks for Angella's permission to see her, and it is granted; but she doesn't feel strong enough to enter Shadow Weaver's room without transforming first, and only with the Queen at her side.

-

“ Shadow Weaver,” Catra said, as she stepped into the room, tall and powerful, flanked by the eternal Queen... but whatever was to come next died in her throat. Shadow Weaver looked to be... _dripping_ , slumped on a chair in a sealing circle, hair not the billowing nightmare of darkness that has haunted Catra's nightmares for years, but a limp and dying thing.

“ Catra,” Shadow Weaver drawled mournfully. “ I suppose it must please you to see me like this.”

“ Shadow Weaver... what... what's wrong?” Catra asked, helpless, she is She-Ra and the Alliance's greatest soldier but seeing Shadow Weaver like this, she cannot help but move forward, seeking to comfort.

( Why does she love her? This woman, who hates her, who has hurt her so much; why does she love her, why can she not walk away?)

Angella's hand keeps her back before she penetrates the barrier, and Shadow Weaver reacts to the interference with a coughing, shuddering laugh.

“ What do you fear I will do, Angella?” Shadow Weaver said, amused. “ Do you fear I will hurt her? She is She-Ra- I am dying. I would have difficulty harming a fly right now.”

“ I don't trust you,” the Queen said, keeping her hand on Catra's shoulder. “ Especially not with her. You've hurt her enough.”

Catra, held back, still ached to go forward, to comfort, to... to do _something_ for the woman who was her mother, despite everything.

“ I made her strong,” Shadow Weaver said, and that... that was _praise_ , or close enough, and it sent a shiver down Catra's spine to hear it, a shiver Angella feels through her hand on the girl's shoulder.

“ Made me _strong_?” Catra said, and she cannot quite pull off the disbelieving snort she attempts. “ Is that why you did what you did? Why you...”

She can't quite say it, can't throw her accusations in Shadow Weaver's face, not when the sorceress looked so small and beaten, not with Angela here, who will hear the things that were done to Catra; she cannot quite tear open her heart in front of an audience, reveal so much of herself. She trailed off instead, voice choked on all her insecurities and her vulnerable core.

“ It worked, didn't it? You stand here, the strongest person in Etheria,” Shadow Weaver continued, and that abrasive, sand-coated voice still sounded so much like approval that Catra could not help but latch onto it. “ You've proven to be far greater than I suspected. I'd be proud of you, but you've accomplished this on your own- the same way I did.”

Catra swayed, unsteady, only Angella's hand keeping her stable. If Shadow Weaver over her bed, hand outstretched, was the culmination of her childhood nightmares, than Shadow Weaver, praising her, was the culmination of all her childhood dreams; the shift so sudden it hearts, it gives her heart whiplash.

This praise... The compliment is backhanded, but Cara is used to the back of Shadow Weaver's hand, so she marvels at the new portion of it instead of at the old pain. Shadow Weaver _never_ praised her, no mater how much she wanted her to...

And not like this, not with her dry, sarcastic tones. She'd tried to fool her with false praise once before, in Mystacor, but there she had sounded like she did when she'd talked to Adora. That was a tone of voice Catra never heard from Shadow Weaver, but this... this is the Shadow Weaver Catra remembered, the woman who raised her.

“ Why did you want to see Catra?” the Queen asked, forcibly moving the conversation away, to Catra's dismay.

“ Because she can heal me,” Shadow Weaver said. “ And if she does, then I will tell you how to defeat the Horde. You need to hurry, too- he is making a device that will win this war.”

“ You have no proof, and further why would you help us?” Angella asked.

“ Because Hordak threw me out,” Shadow Weaver growled, and _that_ anger is familiar to Catra, too, though this is the first time she's heard it directed at Hordak. “ I want revenge, Angella. I want to see him _dead_.”

“ We can't _possibly_ trust you-” Angella began- and was surprised when Catra held up a hand, interrupting her.

“ How can I save you?” Catra asked the darkling monster, and Shadow Weaver's harsh glare softened.

“ I will teach you,” Shadow Weaver said. “ You are greater than anyone thought, even me. Come closer-”

“ Catra, don't,” the Queen commanded, but Catra turned to her with a hopeful expression.

“ Please,” Catra asked. “ Let me heal her.”

She licked her lips, and then she said the words that ruined her.

“ I trust her.”

And, helpless before that look- and scared of whatever it was Shadow Weaver was hinting at- Angella let her walk forward, into the shield that protected her from the monster.... but standing so close to Shadow Weaver, who coughed up shadows as she approached in lieu of blood, Catra found that it was hard to be afraid of her.

“ Tell me how to help you,” Catra pleaded; because, standing so close to the dying woman, she now found that she wanted only to save the woman that some part of her still wanted to call _mother_.

“ Concentrate, child,” Shadow Weaver ordered in her oily tones. “ You're no Micah, but you _are_ powerful. Concentrate your powers.”

Catra held up the blade and closed her eyes, hunting the warm sun of She-Ra's magic inside her... but she felt... stupid, in front of Shadow Weaver, weak, the concentration eluded her.

A cold, but gentle, hand on hers, Catra's eyes snapping open- but the touch wasn't meant to hurt, but to reassure, for the first time Shadow Weaver's touch was not the prelude to pain.

( Catra's inner child thrilled at that touch, even as her wiser self recoiled, knowing she could _not_ trust her... but her heart, her _heart_ , it _aches_ , and this touch _soothes_...)

“ You are nervous, child,” Shadow Weaver said, voice slick and amused. “ I can imagine why. But do not be so worried or nervous. What could I do to harm you? What can _anyone_ do to harm you? You fought the entire Horde here at Brightmoon. Let your fears and nerves wash away- you are greater than all of them.”

Shadow Weaver's words sounded so sweet that Catra had to believe them, the first bite of this poisonous treat enthralled her so that she could not help but do as asked.

Catra touched the sun inside her soul, and with the power of light, restored the dark sorceress.

-

Healing Shadow Weaver pays off in revelations, even as the truth of how much it cost will not be known for some time yet.

( How much it will cost Catra, to trust Shadow Weaver, and let that trust be known to the witch.)

Shaow Weaver reveals... so much to them. So much, that _changes_ so much... a portal, Adora dragged through as a child. A portal, that Hordak is building, which will consume the entire planet in the machinations of a greater Horde army. Entrapta, working freely as Hordak's partner... Adora, throwing her mother out of the Horde without even seeing her, one last time, or at least that's how Shadow Weaver tells it.

Other reveals- Shadow Weaver asks to see Glimmer, the child of her favorite student- but the revelations about Adora are the ones that swirl in Catra's mind. Adora is a First One. No wonder Catra had so much trouble competing with her as a child.

Actually, considering that Adora is a _First One_ , Catra feels pretty good at how _well_ she'd done, head to head with her. How well she's _doing_ , now that they are on opposite sides, and fighting.

It's a frivolous thing to think about, but that's because it's too big to consider seriously, at least for a little bit. As they leave the room- Shadow Weaver alive but exhausted, and how _good_ does that feel, to heal her, and hear her praise?- Catra wonders just how she's going to deal with this news... and how Adora would deal with it, in her place.

-

“ Force Captain Adora... I'd like to catch up.”

Adora's life is so full of irony that it makes her _choke_.

“ Certainly, Hordak. What would you like to hear about first?”

An irony, that Shadow Weaver raised the wrong damn kid, made the wrong guess about which of them would wield the Sword. An irony, that Adora has always considered herself the better between her and Catra, but the truth turned out to be the opposite; it is Catra who rises like the sun, and Adora who falls into darkness.

“ Let's talk about... Shadow Weaver.”

And now here is the most absurd irony in all of Adora's life.

“ What about her? I sent her to Beast Island like you asked.”

She's going to die for lying when she thought she was telling the truth.

“ I hate being lied to, Force Captain.”

She can't breathe.

( Her life is so full of irony that it _literally_ makes her choke, isn't that funny?)

-

When she wakes up, she's in Shadow Weaver's former cell, shackled, surrounded only by the tally marks her mother's claws made in the walls.

Adora awakens from a pleasant dream, of Catra beside her, Adora as the dark lord of the Horde with Catra at her side as spymaster, her vision of a perfect world.

Reality is so much less pleasant that Adora wonders why anyone bothers with it. She sits there for a time... perhaps a day. It's hard to know, harder still without making her own marks in the walls... but she has no sharp blades on her fingers, she is not like Shadow Weaver or Catra; she has no natural weapons. She is merely human; there is no inherent greatness to her.

( Oh, irony, irony, irony.)

At some point, she drifts off; when she awakes, Scorpia is at the door.

The big woman is crying, blabbering about... something. She's trying to free her, though Adora can't figure out why, given that the scorpion woman isn't exactly a friend of hers; the mystery doesn't last long, though, Scorpia spilling the truth as she tries vainly to use the keypad.

A gift, to Shadow Weaver, a last request...

Adora laughs. It's so fucking funny. She _laughs_. Of course. All her stupid dreams of being Catra's true rival, the villain of the play, they are undone by _Scorpia_ , of all people, by the dumbest person Hordak has ever employed.

Adora's not the big bad of the story. She's the _comic relief_. Her entire life is a _joke_. Catra's the hero, Shadow Weaver's probably the main villain, and she... she's just a _punchline_. She loses everything she wants, every time; she lost berserk Catra in the ice, the Catra she could control and keep, she lost the real Catra when she fell off the skiff, she lost herself when she murdered a village on Hordak's orders for nothing.

She... she's a _joke._

So she does what you're supposed to do when you hear a joke- she laughs.

Scorpia- who feels only sheer terror at that laughter without mirth- cannot stand it, and flees the room, flees Adora, and all that wounded sound out of the blonde girl's mouth.

In time- after Adora has sobered up, after her head has had time to slap patches on the deepening wounds in her psyche- her own soldiers come, and they have a plan to bust her out. She's touched; her own little squad, so loyal, so ready to betray Hordak just for her. She's... genuinely glad for it.

Still... she has an idea.

“ Lonnie,” Adora says, grinning fiercely,” what if I told you to tell Hordak it was Scorpia's fault?”

-

To Catra's surprise, the Queen agrees to send her to the Crimson Waste, so long as Glimmer and Bow tag along. That was how Glimmer explained it, anyway, and Catra was too surprised- and too excited to go- to question it overmuch.

( The Queen had not approved such a mission. Glimmer, knowing Catra would not go without Angella's permission, had chosen the better part of valor and chosen to simply lie to the Sword's bearer; she'd left a note with the Queen explaining as such.)

Catra makes sure they're prepped before they set off, old survival training kicking in- water and supplies and gear. The benefit of her orderly army upbringing, she supposes, and she's pleased to know that not every thing of her childhood is evil; Glimmer expresses gratitude for her planning the first time they take a break and she has water to drink, the way the princess would not if she had simply hared off as she was wont to. Chaos has its advantages, but Order sure is safer.

The Waste, meanwhile, is... kinda awesome. Catra likes it. The wind in her hair makes her feel free and the burning light drives all the cold darkness of Shadow Weaver out of her mind; she turns her face to the sun, and feels a smile tug at her lips. It is not gentle, this desert land, but it is fierce and strong, and it calls to the wild child inside her.

She lets it blow through her, pick her feet up a bit- though she stays close to the others, does not abandon them to run and gambol in this brilliant heat. Wild child at heart, yes, but you can have a lot of things in your heart; and she likes being gentle, and kind.

The Waste does not, unfortunately. Catra is a good tracker, but Horde training is only so useful out here; Bow's tracker dies, and they end up visiting what appears to be a bar, where Glimmer and Bow promptly make fools of themselves. First Ones, bless her poor friends; they are good and innocent people, and the murderous inhabitants of this bar think them easy prey.

Not so easy prey as they might expect- in a fight between these desert scavengers and her friends, Catra would bet the Sword itself on Bow and Glimmer- but they don't need a fight just now. Were Bow and Glimmer by themselves, they'd have to punch the entire bar into submission; but Catra knows that the best way to avoid a fight is to be scary. Intimidation is just manipulation, after all, and that is her _first_ meat and drink.

So she rescues them.

-

“ You know,” Catra said, as she shifted into She-Ra, “ you shouldn't attack them. They've got a lot to lose.”

“ Oh yeah?” the satyr said, though she took a step back as Catra's now-towering form rose above her. “ What's that supposed to mean?”

“ People with a lot to lose... they fight harder. Trust me, I know from experience,” Catra said, running one long set of claws down the bar. Though she'd favored the Sword ever since getting it, she hadn't forgotten that she'd been born with five swords at the end of each hand, long before she ever fell off the skiff. “ I've faced worse than a couple of one-bit thugs trying to appear like they're worth _two_ bits. Entire Horde armies... and because I had so much to lose... well. We won that fight.”

“ You think you're tough?” the satyr said. “ You think you're scary?”

“ Yep,” Catra said. “ So you gonna back down, or is this gonna get ugly?”

“ Ain't scared of you!” the satyr announced, her lizard friend roaring her approval.

Catra backhanded her so hard it spun her around, and then, quickly, dropped down, grabbed the satyr's legs, and stood back up.

“ **Fuuuuu** _-_ ” the satyr had time to yell, as she fell face forward and hit the ground.

Her lizard woman squawked. Catra responded by lifting the satyr, and swinging her like a club into the lizard, reducing the two to a pile on the floor. Laughter echoed around the bar as Catra got in another swing, both the goat and the lizard screaming the entire time.

“ I can do this all day!” Catra told them cheerfully as she lifted the goat again. “ Wanna surrender?”

“ Yes, please!” the satyr plead. “ Holy shit, _please!_ ”

“ Alright,” Catra said- and chucked the goat out the door, grabbing the lizard a second later and doing the same to her, clapping her hands together to shake the dust of the duo off of her. Catra spun towards the minotaur woman behind the bar.

“ So! Bartender, water please. Kinda thirsty.”

The bartender obliged, and everyone else, realizing the show was over, went back to what they were doing. Glimmer and Bow huddled up next to Adora- Glimmer with a kind of awe in her eyes, Bow a bit nervous. Left to themselves, Catra thought, Glimmer would conquer all the Waste, in time- if she could survive the first month or so- but Bow would be eaten alive, poor thing.

“ So now what do we do?” Glimmer asked, as Catra took a sip.

“ We give it a few minutes, watch the crowd, make it obvious we're doing so but don't approach anyone just yet. Somebody will ask what we want soon enough,” Catra said. “ Sit down, and just keep watch.”

They weren't sitting long before they were approached by a great brute, purple skin over great muscle. The woman is apparently dangerous enough that no one is willing to cross her- Catra can almost smell it, the caution others take near it, the way everyone in the room watches her movements while simultaneously trying to hide that they were paying attention at all.

“ Not bad! Never seen a stunt like that before,” the cheerful, amused brute said. “ Who are you?”

“ Catra,” she said, giving the big woman an appraising look... and then, a grin. A woman that scary would have started throwing her weight around if she wanted to fight; but she's being fairly friendly, so she must plan on being diplomatic. “ Better known as She-Ra. Who are you?”

“ My name's Huntara,” the big woman replied with a smirk. “ Not better known, and by choice. So why were you smashing up the two goons?”

“ They were being rude, ” Catra answered cheerfully. “ Truth is, we just need a guide! But it's hard to be polite out here.”

“ Well, put down your sword there and we can talk business,” Huntara said. “ I'm not polite, but I _am_ a guide.”

The four sat down in the back, where Catra started the negotiations.

“ How much does it cost to hire you for a tracker?”

“ For a bunch of rubes like you guys, too much,” Huntara replied gruffly... but she didn't tell them to leave. A bluff, then, testing them, seeing how much they'd cough up.

Catra readied herself to haggle- and to see how trustworthy she thought this big woman was- but before she could say anything, Glimmer jumped into the conversation.

“ I'm a princess, I'm pretty sure I can pay you anything,” Glimmer said. Huntara laughed, bitterness warring with amusement.

“ Princess, huh? I'm a princess too,” she told Glimmer, sarcasm thick. “ Princess of the Crimson Waste.”

Princess of the Crimson Waste...

It hit Catra like a sledgehammer, something like a... _vision._

( Herself, she is floating behind herself, sees herself from outside; a different Catra, wearing a leather jacket, sitting on a metal strut sticking out of a great bone, one of many that arch over a city, a great rugged city by a lake... a city that flies a black flag with her helmet on it, with a snake behind. A city by a lake with boats and fishermen, and citizens going about their lives, some riding huge serpents while others lash cloth to bone to construct new buildings... and there is a little crown floating in the air above Catra's head, as her long tail curls in the desert breeze and she overlooks her city from afar, always and forever watching over it. A crown fit for a princess, for the first Princess of the Crimson Waste, this city and this society that will last down all the long centuries of Etheria's history... and she will watch over it, for all time...)

But then Catra blinked and the vision was gone, leaving only its memory and two little tears of awe running down her face.

“ Uh, Catra? You ok?” Bow asks, as Glimmer and Huntara argue about princesses.

“ I'm... I'm fine, I'm fine,” she said, trying to shrug off... whatever the hell that was, that beautiful image, though it had hit her like a sledgehammer.

By the time she was able to shake it off, Glimmer, of all people, had come to terms with Huntara, paying her _far_ too much...

But still, they've got their tracker, and into the Waste they go.

-

Entrapta's day goes fairly normally... up until, by accident, she sees Hordak without his armor.

He sees her _seeing_ him, and it enrages him, he yells at her. He spits truth at her, a venom from his mouth; he tells her what he is, of the imperfection he finds in himself, and it... it is something she knows, there is a sentence like that one written on Entrapta's heart, too.

_I'm a failure, I don't fit in, I'm... wrong_....

And as if the truth were strings that kept him upright, when he is done, he collapses, a tiny and broken thing at her feet.

But that... that's not possible. It's not _possible_ for _Hordak_ to be small, and little. He's _Hordak._ He's big. He's strong. He's ten tons of drama and dark flair in a hundred pounds of tall, powerful overlord.

But now he's... so small. So hurt.

It's a puzzle, and Entrapta loves puzzles; but the answer, itself, is more interesting in this moment, as she picks him up, winds her hair tight around him and lifts his body up so that she might fix his armor, and restore his breath.

The puzzle is this: What is Hordak? Big, or small? Mighty, or weak? Unbreakable, or fragile?

The answer, oh, the answer, is _this_ : He is both.

The answer takes her breath away, even as she measures him, and prepares to make something _new_ for him.

He is... he is an _impossibility_. He is paradox, chaos, he is something fundamentally _strange_. He is dying, faltering, failing; he is also the invincible lord, a powerful warrior, the mightiest man in all Etheria. He is a scientific genius, a soldier without peer, the architect of the Horde; he is a failure, a clone, and the very air of this world is poison to him. He is frail to the _nth_ degree, and strong to the _nth_ degree, he is somehow both at once. He is the most vulnerable and the most mighty being all at the same time.

He's like _her_. He is an equation that doesn't fit, he is a piece of the jigsaw puzzle that came from another box. Entrapta has _never_ been like anyone else, and now, well, now she knows that Hordak isn't like anyone else _either_ , he is... he is different. Special. _Unique_.

He is... he is an equation she almost can't _believe_ , that this man, dying, is still Hordak, that he is still so much when he is so... small, under the armor. He has made 1+1 = 100, he is a variable that changes the experiment to an impossible degree, he is somehow flawed and perfect, all at once. She finds that she is staring at him, sometimes, that even as her hands and hair work to make the suit that will save him, she just _stares_. He is an impossibly flawed diamond, whose flaws meet and merge and form brilliant patterns; he is imperfectly magnificent, he is shattered brilliance, something like stained glass. He is so much more beautiful than he would be if he were as he was meant to be...

Even as she makes the last steps, as he begins to wake up, she is still caught up in the wonder of him. It is incredible, to think of all that he has done, looking at him now. She is wrapped up in amazement, that he is so _sick_ , but so _strong_ , that these two facts exist together inside of him.

Two facts exist inside her, too; lots of them, an entire universe of dualities. A Princess, but she has no Gemstone. The tiniest Princess, but also the oldest. The tech genius, who cannot figure out how to navigate a simple conversation. The one person in all the world who, given the choice, joined the Horde of her own free will...

They're both data points that exist on no line, they're both... _unique_.

She wonders if he's as aware of it as she is, if he's haunted by the knowledge of how... different.. he is. _Weird_ , voices say inside her skull.

( Scorpia fears that the princesses won't like her for her looks; Entrapta fears being disliked for her mind, for the way her gears grind that doesn't match up with the cogteeth of other brains... and unlike the loving brute, Entrapta _knows_ that other Princesses don't like her, she's met them and they left her behind.)

She's flawed, she _knows_ that, she knows that only eating tiny food is strange and she _knows_ she's too excitable and too focused and too fixated when she starts working, but she keeps her spirits up by remembering that no one can do what she does, either, she has no gemstone to power her like the other Princesses but by the First Ones, _look_ at what she's capable of! She is flawed and perfect, all at once.

There has never been anyone like her, who loves science the way she does, looks at the math the way she does... until now. Until him.

And now, seeing him for the first time, really _seeing_ him, she sees that he's different too, he's flawed and perfect too...

But his flaws are tearing at his perfection, so she saves him, she builds him a suit that will let him stand as tall as her esteem for him.

He loves the suit, too. She added a jetpack to it, so he could fly, just for the hell of it; and he is so awkward in complimenting her that it simply redoubles her interest in him.

She is awkward with people, too; and she stays with him all that day, fixing and fixing, keeping the machine repaired, spot-fixing mistakes in the swiftly-made suit. She has to make it perfect, she has to protect him; he's unique, like her.

Unique things are rarities, after all, and rarity is just another word for treasure; and you should always protect those things you treasure.

( Entrapta is not like other people; and now she knows that _Hordak_ is not like other people, either. Maybe they're both like each other. Maybe... maybe they don't have to be _singular_ data points anymore, maybe they can exist on a line, connected to each other.)

-

Huntara is former Horde. No way she's not. It's present in every motion, every action; she's like everyone Catra's ever had to watch, everyone she's ever had to be wary of- the only person in the Horde that Catra had not kept watch on was Adora, because Adora alone had her back.

( _I'll get her back_ , Catra thinks, because she loves Adora still.)

And because Catra is used to watching people like Huntara, she sees the betrayal coming, long before it happens.

She tells Bow and Glimmer, and they make ready.

-

Entrapta and Hordak are working on his machine when they are interrupted. Three soldiers of the Horde, who present themselves absolutely flawlessly before him.

“ Sir!”

“ I do not like being interrupted,” he growls.

“ We know, sir,” the leader, a young girl, says, “ but we have vital information. It's about Force Captain Adora, and the recent escape of Shadow Weaver... as well as Scorpia's involvement.”

His eyes narrow into angry slits- but he listens.

-

Huntara's trap does not go as intended. Rather, the trap, when sprung, was launched by the _Best Friend Trio_ , who prove to the three that, of all the people in the Crimson Waste, they top the list of those you shouldn't mess with.

The satyr went down when Glimmer telepunched her three times in rapid succession. The lizard was entangled, then paralyzed, Bow having stolen the blow pipe from the goat while Glimmer was busily pummeling her.

And Huntara faced not a paralyzed Catra, but She-Ra in the full of her glory.

When the fight was over, Catra felt... disappointed... but facing the kneeling warrior, who talked of her fear of Hordak, of how she had tried to keep the Waste safe by keeping outsiders away and everyone else _in_ , Catra found that she could not bring herself to hurt her.

She was too much like the way Catra had been, before the sword.

“ Run,” Catra said to her, firm and strong. “ Run, the way you run from everything. Run. And don't come back.”

The trio fled. Glimmer sighed.

“ Now what the hell do we do?”

-

“ You're being released.”

Have any words sounded so sweet?

Adora rubs her wrists as the cuffs come off, restoring the blood flow.

“ Hordak found out- he's going to punish Scorpia!” Lonnie says, delighted and excited. “ You're free!”

Adora smiles- then sighs. “ Ok. Thank you.”

She turns her head, and sees her suit in Rogellio's hands, and her face is lit with a wicked smile.

“ _Excellent._ Let's go save Scorpia.”

“ Huh?” Kyle says. “ But you're the one who told us to tell Hordak what she did!”

“ Yep,” Adora said, slipping into the suit- and First Ones, that feels so _nice_ , to be so strong. After being so weak in the jail cell, to step into this machine again... it's like coming home. “ Trust me, I've got a plan.”

Hordak's got Scorpia on trial, the big woman terrified of being sent to Beast Island; but Entrapta delays him, points out Scorpia's good works so far, and Hordak seems to... hesitate, he does not want to do what he feels compelled to do.

Adora smiles inside her snarling helmet. This'll make it easier.

“ Lord Hordak,” she says, voice echoing from the helmet. “ I must ask that you spare Scorpia's life. She made a mistake, but she has done great work. Surely there is some great task you can put her to work at?”

Hordak grins, and in his next words, Adora sees how she might move ahead of Catra again.

“ Entrapta _did_ speak of technology in the Crimson Waste...”

-

Two days after Huntara's attempted betrayal, they stumble into an ambush by lizard folk. Their leader was all boasts and brags... and Catra cannot _believe_ his name.

“ You will know the fear of Tung Lashor!” he yelled, as if that is not the _silliest_ name in Eternia.

“ Tung Lashor?” Catra said, and then- she couldn't help it. She started laughing.

“ Did you- First Ones, did you lose a _bet_?” Catra giggled helplessly. “ Tung Lashor? _Tung Lashor?_ Has- has no one told you how _dumb_ that sounds? Do you not have a friend in the world?”

“ H-hey!” the lizard replied indignantly, but his high pitched distress was so _funny_ that it tipped Catra over the edge into actual, full-blown laughter. Her stomach _ached_ , she was laughing so hard. Maybe it was just releasing the tension from the mess with Huntara... but it felt good, so she kept laughing.

Catra laughed so hard, in fact, that Glimmer and Bow caught the same fever, and started to laugh, too; even some of the unfortunately-named gang leader's minions chuckled, caught up in the trio's amusement.

Catra finally got the strength to stand up, wiping a tear from her eye.

“ Tung Lashor. Oh my. I mean, look, Etherian naming conventions are kind of on the nose, I'm not gonna lie, I mean, my name's Catra, for Brightmoon's sake. But... I mean... Tung Lashor? Mara's teeth! Was your mom or your dad the asshole in your family?”

The laughter spread like wildfire amongst his gang. He cracked his whip, angry. “ I'll teach you to respect my name!”

“ A whip- nice!” Catra replied, as she slipped up close to examine the weapon. Tung was so thrown off by her suddenly standing next to him that he just paused, speechless, staring as she studied his weapon. “ You know, I always kinda wanted a whip. I mean, I got my sword, hell, I've got _the_ Sword, but I've been thinking- Bow loses his bow a lot, it might behoove me to grab another weapon. Like, maybe Glimmer's right, she just fights everyone with her fists, and it's kinda hard to lose your fists, you know?”

“ I mean, your hands could get cut off,” Glimmer noted, though her morbid words were matched by a cheeky grin.

“ I don't lose my bow that often!” Bow protested, and was ignored by all and sundry.

“ Yeah, but like, if you get into _that_ kind of situation, nothing helps,” Catra said, as she idly perused Tung's jacket. “ I really need a backup for the sword. And like I said, I always kinda wanted a whip. One of the older Force Captains used one, though I think Mermista got him in the end. Wonder if she kept the whip.”

“ Mermista doesn't strike me as the trophy-keeping kind,” Glimmer said, coming up to examine Tung Lashor as well. The lizard was stunned, his brain failing to compute _anything_ that was happening to him.

“ Shame, I'd love an excuse to go visit her,” Catra said, sighing. “ Be nice to see a lot of water after all this sand. Anyway, dude, look. I'm... I'm taking that whip, and I'll probably take that jacket, too. It's a nice jacket, and it's about my size, ya get me?”

He stared at her, open-mouthed. He managed with heroic effort to close it, but before he could speak, Glimmer beat him to it.

“ I want the jacket,” Glimmer announced. “ I'll owe you a favor, but seriously, that jacket is exactly my thing. And it'll be too small when you go She-Ra anyway, let me have it.”

Catra laughed.

“ Sure! That's a fair point, I don't want to rip the jacket when transforming anyway. So anyway, buddy, Glimmer gets your jacket, but I'm taking that whip.”

He was so mad he literally turned scarlet.

“ **I'm going to kill you!** ” he bellowed.

Then he “fought” her. It wasn't much of a fight; the angry are easily tricked. She went She-Ra and had him tossed into quicksand literally seconds later, and stole his whip and jacket in the bargain. Glimmer slips it on and struck a few poses, looking good, while Tung Lashor slowly sank and swiftly screamed.

Catra gave it a minute, waiting just long enough for him to realize how _bad_ of a death that would be, how slow... and saved him.

“ Don't make me regret this,” she told him, pulling him to shore with his own whip. She deposited him, coughing but alive, on solid ground.

She's the best Princess, so she gives everyone a second chance- but no more than that.

“ Now, if you betray me, if you do _anything_ stupid, you go back in the quicksand. Or you get the Sword. Whatever's on hand. We clear?”

“ Y-yes, err, ma'am,” he said, politeness quick on his lashing tongue. He looked at her with strange fear and... respect.

(Something in her stirred, wanted to kill him and be done with it... but that's not how a Princess does things. And being a Princess has brought Catra so much happiness that she cannot reject the title, and so she will do her best to live up to it, to do things... right. To be good.)

“ Now,” Catra announced, “ which of you would-be ambushers knows the way to the center of this Waste?”


	2. Adora at the End of the World

**Adora at the End of the World**

The bar is crowded, but Adora's not surprised to find people here; Hordak is not a leader, he's a figurehead, and so of course his intelligence is off. Scorpia, still uncomfortable to be on this trip at all, lugs in behind her, with the rest of Adora's squad making up the rearguard.

Adora looks around, her helmet quietly scanning for possible First Ones tech; little pings here and there, knives and little things made of scavenged tech, nothing like what they're after. Most ignore the armed Horde squad; a trio in the back, though, they watch her, two wary.

The last... she watches the Horde group quietly, a powerful woman with purple skin and pointed ears who... wakes up something in Adora, something almost innocent, she's so _beautiful_. Adora is in awe of it, this simple _attraction_ she feels; she has not felt something so... gentle... in a long time.

But she shakes it off. She's not here to catch a crush.

(Well, she's here to catch... whatever Catra is to her now.)

Still, she amuses herself by running her eyes over the big woman, enjoying the heft and weight of her curves, and decides to approach them openly.

“ So! You seem interested. What do you do around here?” Adora asks, addressing the brute- but it's her companion who answers first.

“ Piss off,” the satyr says, rubbing a black eye. “ Done with outsiders.”

_Outsiders...?_

“ Tell me about these outsiders,” Adora says.

“ Didn't you hear her? Piss off,” the muscular warrior replies.

Well, _that_ can't be allowed.

Adora holds up a hand, and with a drop of her magic, summoned the illusion of a flame.

“ I'd hate to burn this place to the ground!” Adora bluffed. Lies, sweet lies, her whole life had been a lie... it shouldn't surprise her that her magic was all lies too, tricks of the light.

Still, these three goons have _no_ idea that Adora can't fulfill her threats; magic is a rare and powerful thing in Eternia, and seeing that little flickering fire, they lean back, fearing the pyroclasm that might erupt at any moment.

“ What do you want?” the satyr grumbles- but she looks away. She's cowed.

Adora presses her advantage as she dismisses her illusion.

“ Tell me about the outsiders.”

The story comes soon enough. A princess, all punches and prettiness; an archer, genius with tech.

A cat-woman, who bore a sword that shined, and turned into a warrior giant.

Of course. She's here.

Adora has another chance to fight her- to be the villain she wants to be.

( Some part of her heart keeps fighting back; this isn't who you want to be... but she still cannot conceive of being good, after all she has done, and she hides it from herself. Adora does not lie only to others.)

Adora laughed. “ Well, lead us on, then!”

“ Piss off,” the big woman said. “ You're Horde, I don't work for you.”

“ Guys,” Adora said, “ don't kill them, but do hurt them.”

Rogelio proved a match for the two goons, picking up the satyr and beating the lizard with her- which prompted the _strangest_ thing to come out of the satyr's mouth, she yelled “ Not again!” as Rogelio used her as a flail.

Meanwhile, Lonnie, Kyle and Adora took on the big woman. She was _tough_ , this woman, she started the fight by punting Kyle into a corner and breaking her table over Adora's shield- but it's three on one, and she can't fight them all. Kyle didn't let his pain bother him, hurling himself back into the fight despite his busted ribs, doing nothing but distracting the woman... but distraction is a big thing, and his antics let Adora and Lonnie get a few hits in.

Lonnie does the heavy lifting, her stun baton a constant sting that sends crippling thunder through the woman's veins; the first strike doesn't phase her, nor does the second, but the third and fourth made her a little bit slower, a little bit clumsy- and Scorpia, finally participating, knocks her out with a quick strike of her tail.

“ Four hits?” Lonnie commented, as the woman slumped unconscious to the floor. “ Four hits is enough to fry a ration bar, what's this woman made out of?”

“ Muscle and good looks,” Adora mused as Rogelio put one heavy clawed foot atop his subdued victims. “ Let's tie them up, and then... they get to march! They'll lead us to Catra.”

“ Why are we going after her?” Scorpia asked. Adora snorted at the big woman.

“ Because if Catra's here, there's only one thing she can be after- the tech.”

-

The gang melted away, and it was Lashor himself who joined the Best Friends Trio as a guide. The gang won't follow a beaten leader, he explained gruffly, and his pride wouldn't let him go back to the gang as a failure, scraping and clawing for respect.

The gang, for a moment, wanted to follow Catra, but Catra had no interest in acquiring a scraggly horde of followers; she had a people already, in Brightmoon, and therefore had no need to recruit bandits and beasts to her side.

She instead sent them off cheerfully, telling them to stay safe, though it was clear from the way that different hardcases in the former gang were looking at each other that the group would destroy itself with infighting soon enough. Should a top dog emerge, perhaps there would be some hope of preserving most of the gang; but without it, it would bleed away, the members fleeing to join more stable groups elsewhere in the Waste.

Tung let loose a sigh as they left, one glance back at his gang, once the strongest in the Waste, now doomed to fall apart.

“ You okay?” Glimmer asked.

“ Doing great,” he hissed back. “ Helping three jerks who beat me up, stole my clothes and whip, and kicked me off the top of the heap. Today is just _awesome._ Anyway, let's go.”

Glimmer frowned a bit at that, as did Catra, though she soon defended herself.

“ I mean, you were going to ambush us,” she said. “ Can't blame me if you couldn't take us.”

“ I should have had them shoot you,” he grumbled. “ It's this way.”

-

Travel through the Waste is... fun. The trio they've got on ropes lead the way, and since they've got three, they've got a way to double-check any directions the trackers give. Adora orders that two be blindfolded and their ears plugged at all times, only one free to serve as a scout.

She is proven wise when the satyr gives them directions that seem just a little fishy to Adora; she has her squad blindfold her and plug her ears, and then undoes blindfolds and plugs in the lizard, and asks her where they should go. When the answer is different than the one the goat-woman gave, Adora smiles, and asks why.

“ Snakes down that way,” the lizard replies- somehow. Adora's glad Kyle is along; he's the only one who actually speaks the language of the lizard folk.

She thanks the lizard, and has her lead the way, eventually swapping out for the big purple woman, whose name is Huntara, it turns out. The purple woman even shares the outsider's goal- a ship from the First Ones, full of tech. Definitely what Entrapta wanted them to find; Adora had been right; chasing Catra was what they needed to do.

It's actually kind of a fun day. The desert is _terrifying_ , but Adora finds that casually kicking around these people- who seem to be the best the Waste can offer- it restores something in her, something called _confidence_ , which she has not had since she got thrown in that jail cell.

She feels... like she might be able to go back to being Catra's enemy, again, that she's not a failure at the new goal of her life.

She even finds Scorpia's company tolerable, though when the goat-woman fucks up she calls her Scorpia 2, to her squad's laughter and Scorpia's embarrassment.

Perhaps trying to make up for that embarrassment, Scorpia talks of her relationship with Hordak, her friendship, and Adora casually gets information out of her- a portal project, trying to contact the greater Horde, Hordak's weakness without his suit... all kinds of things Scorpia's careless lips tell Adora.

Interesting.

-

Apparently the ship they're looking for was revealed in a big sandstorm some time ago; the Crimson Waste raiders all know where it is, but Huntara banned them from raiding it some time ago, though the place is probably loaded with tech. Something to do with fearing that a sudden increase in First One Artifacts coming out of the Waste would make the outside world interested in their little desolate corner of the planet.

Still, Tung knew where it was, and so he led the way. About an hour in, Bow, uncomfortable with his stony silence, sidled up to him.

“ So... what's your story?” Bow asked Tung.

“ I told you, got beat up by jerks, robbed, and now I'm leading them to the middle of the Waste because they want to be see an old ship,” the lizard replied. “ You're one of the jerks, in case you're wondering.”

“ I mean, I didn't rob you,” Bow said, somewhat defensively.

“ Well, congratulations, you're the best of the three,” Tung said. “ Now stop being distracting, there's quicksand pits all along this-”

In a fit of timing that proved only that Tung had pissed off a god somewhere, right as he was speaking his warning about quicksand, he fell right into one.

“ Ah _shit!_ Ahhhhh!” he yelled, sinking in swiftly.

Glimmer groaned, and teleported him out.

“ Dude, please don't walk into quicksand,” Glimmer said. “ I can't save you every time.”

“ This does not give me confidence in your abilities, not gonna lie,” Catra said as Tung spat out sand.

“ Look, it's been a while, okay?” he said, snorting the last bits of grit out of his nose.

“ Here, take this,” Bow said, offering the lizard-man one of his spare canteens. “ Wash the sand out of your mouth.”

“ I... really?” the man said, looking at the canteen like he feared it was full of snakes. “ You're just... gonna hand me a thing of water.”

“ Sure,” Bow said. “ We've got plenty to spare.”

Shrugging, Tung took the proffered water, washing the grit down his throat with it.

( Crimson Waste dwellers did _not_ waste water by spitting it out.)

“ Err, thanks,” Tung said. Catra smiled at Bow for his kindness; she should have thought of that, what with trying to be the best Princess and all, but honestly, it's weird to her, to think of needing _water_. She mostly avoids the stuff when she can, despite her friendship with Mermista.

“ So, how are you gonna get us to the Waste if you keep falling in quicksand?” Glimmer asked him. He rolled his eyes.

“ I _was_ a scout once, but I've been gang leader for a long time. When I ran the roost, I ordered _other people_ to lead the way. This kind of work is something I haven't done in years, but I'll pick it back up.”

“ Ordering others around? I never could stand that part of being a princess; I like doing stuff myself, with my own two hands,” Glimmer opined.

“ Is that why you punch everything?” Bow asked even as Tung replied.

“ You're a princess?” Tung asked, surprised. He was quiet a moment as he navigated them through a narrow rock path between multiple quicksand pits, then spoke up as they finished traversing it without incident. “ I mean, you've got the glitter and the pink for it, but the way you talked I figured...”

“ Figured what?”

“ That you were tougher,” Tung said, shrugging. “ Princesses- those are prissy types, right?”

Glimmer smirked.

“ You people have no idea how tough princesses are,” she said, as Tung lead them down into a dry riverbed, using what had once been the river's banks to shield them from the sun. “ You're not the first to talk shit about us, so let me set you straight. Honestly, I'm probably the _least_ dangerous princess, and I can _teleport._ Mermista could drown you, Entrapta built super robots, Frosta will freeze you in place and punch you with giant ice hands, and Perfuma... Perfuma's terrifying.”

“ Don't forget me,” Catra said. “ I'm a Princess, too- and I beat your ass.”

“ So are you a Prince, then?” Tung asked Bow, who shook his head.

“ No, just a guy with a bow and a lot of tech skills,” he said. Tung shook his head.

“ Ya'll are a weird bunch.”

“ Yeah, but we work together well,” Catra said, Glimmer punching her shoulder in a friendly manner. “ Gonna beat the Horde together- at least once we find out what's going on with that ship.”

“ So what's the Horde, anyway?” Tung asked. “ I've heard of them from outlanders, and Huntara seems terrified of them, but we don't really see them out here much.”

“ An evil army trying to take over the planet so that one guy can claim he rules the whole thing,” Catra said. “ Or at least, that's what he wants, far as we know. I was raised by them. Big on subjugating other people.”

“ Sound like jerks,” Tung said.

“ Got it in one,” Glimmer said, grinning at him. He smiled back before holding up a hand.

“ Anyway, you lot, be quiet for a moment; if my memory's right, there's a big snake nest in this area. And stick to the shade- it's almost noon, you guys don't want to be caught out in it. Even my scales don't like _that_ much heat.”

Catra looks up at the burning sky, her thoughts a bit... complicated. She fears shadows- how can she not, given Shadow Weaver's actions in raising her?- but this... a poisonous, evil light, a solar glare that kills... that's just not something Catra can really conceive of. The sun, light, heat, those are warm and safe things; thinking of them as _dangerous_ is like... like thinking of _Adora_ as dangerous.

( The knife in her side flashes through her mind; she fights it back. No. That- that _wasn't_ Adora. Shadow Weaver had to have done something. Catra can't... she just _won't_ believe that Adora is _choosing_ to do these horrible things.)

-

Adora and her compatriots heard the gang fight long before they reach it. Three people are decking it out- two lizard folk, and one mole man who is absolutely kicking the shit out of everyone else, wow, if it wasn't for his short reach he'd have already won this fight.

“ So what's all this then?” Adora asked their guide. Huntara was tied up before Adora, heavily bound, her spear the very centerpiece of her chains, the thing they'd tied around them to keep her hands behind her back.

“ This is Tung Lashor's gang,” Huntara growled in reply. “ Those are some of his lieutenants- why are they all fighting?”

“ Maybe somebody plugged Tung,” Scorpia 2 said. Her and the lizard are free; once they'd realized they couldn't trick her, they'd groveled and joined the Horde, to Adora's amusement, cheerfully selling out their former leader. Adora had loved the sheer petty evil of it too much to do anything _but_ accept.

( If she's the great bad guy, the ultimate foe, then it fits to have such people as her minions and go-to goons.)

“ What, they're all fighting cause they have no leader?” Lonnie asked. Huntara nodded.

“ How it works out here; the strong make the rules. If the strong become weak... well, someone has to be strong.” Huntara looked away, aware of just _who_ that applied to at this exact second, but Adora didn't notice.

Someone has to be strong...

Well, not _precisely_ , Adora thought. Someone just had to... _look_ strong...

“ Hey, new guy, if, say, _I_ were strong, would they follow me?” she asked the big woman.

“ Sure,” the satyr said. “ But you'd have to be pretty tough to corral this gang together. Tung Lashor was the second strongest person in the Waste, behind only, err... well, Huntara, I guess. His gang's tough, but you already _did_ subdue Huntara, so uhh... yeah?”

“ Good!” Adora said. “ They'll make _perfect_ fodder to throw at Catra.”

She stalked out onto the field where the would-be warlords were fighting, and raised her left hand, going through the motions of spellcraft. This would be a bigger illusion than any she'd ever made... but if being imprisoned had taught her anything, it was that she could lose at _any_ moment. She had to give her all, every time; she didn't have time to _wait_ , any more.

She released the spell, hoping against hope it would do what she wanted- afraid it would fail- but it didn't, the magic so eager to obey her.

It rose up and took the shape of a _magnificent_ golden dragon, which roared fire into the sky, stunning all who saw it into silence.

As the image faded, Adora retracted her helmet.

“ My good fellows!” Adora said, cackling as the gang members turned to look at her- and saw _Huntara_ with her, Huntara, _tied up._

The three fighters shared a look with each other, a look that perfectly communicated their thoughts. _Who was this woman?_

Adora cackled again. “ I'm here with a job proposition!”

-

The ship is... huge. Ancient. Imposing... It has a sense of... weight.

Great things were done here; great and... terrible, some piece of Catra is recalling memories that are not her own, things another She-Ra once knew. Not quite a vision, not like... whatever it had been at the bar, but something... heavy, in the back of her throat, something that spooks her. Not a memory, but a residue of one, the feeling of remembering things one had never known... something like the instinct that made her hiss at those who pissed her off, or sent her claws out when she was threatened.

Something _another_ She-Ra had felt, once... something had happened in this place, something _bad_. Terror, and despair, sweat on her palms... fear, so strong it overwhelms even Catra's soul.

( Somewhere inside, a voice speaks that she knows not, a voice that had once held this Sword- _I died here_ , it says. _I died here, in despair and fear._ )

She panics when the bats come out, slashes at them with the Sword in sheer frightened surprise. Tung gives her a raised eyebrow.

“ You alright?”

“ I'm fine,” she replies- but she shifts into She-Ra first, just in case. “ Let's just- come on.”

Inside, the ship is empty, and it does nothing for Catra's nerves. The ship is empty, empty, _empty_...

They reach a central control room, but she feels no eagerness- she wants... she wants to _leave_ , even...even with all that this ship could teach her, Catra cannot help but feel, in her guts, that this is not a place she should be.

Then Bow figures it out, that the Sword can also be a key, and revelation rocks them to their core.

Portals. Despondos. Something Mara did that will kill them all, should portals be activated again. Mara... who is terrified, who died doing something... something _good_ , Catra feels that in her guts, that voice in her skull whispering of heroism and glory.

Mara is not a monster. Mara is a _hero_.

But that's not what Light Hope said...

And before Catra can figure that out, Adora is at the door, and paralyzing needles are in their arms.

She is already She-Ra, so the first dart doesn't paralyze her; she flings ahead, knocking down several of the brutes, but Adora brought an _army_ , and they are bringing her down.

With her last act, she grabs Tung, and she hurls him through a door before she blocks it with some heavy chunk of machinery.

( She can save one person, even if she cannot be the best Princess and save them all.)

Then there is only darkness, for a time.

-

“ Hey Catra.”

Adora's smile as Catra's eyes fluttered open was loose and... _mean_ , Catra can hear what is apparently the largest Horde squad she's ever seen cheering as they strip Mara's ship of parts. Quite a party they're having; reminded Catra's bleary, blinking mind of parties in Brightmoon.

The binding ties around her reminded her of where she _really_ was, and she snapped awake as she tugged against them. They were in a sideroom of the ship- they were alone. Light gleamed from beneath them, Adora looking down on her where she was tied to a pipe in the small room.

“ Adora,” she slurred, as the last of the paralysis wore off. “ Adora. What- what are you doing here?”

“ After you, of course,” Adora said, and put a hand- surprisingly gentle- on her jaw. “ Always after you.”

A long moment, where Catra thought that this... whatever it was... between them, this love, this hate, this complicated fucking relationship that had always been a part of their lives, was going to be the focus of the conversation, that maybe they were finally going to talk about each other _with_ each other, instead of with others.

( It is an irony, but honestly, she's talked to Glimmer and Bow more about Adora than she's talked to Adora about it- in fairness, Adora being in the Horde makes it hard to just sit down and talk, but still, it's something she should rectify.)

But then Adora removes her hand. “ Hordak's gonna be so pleased when I take you back,” she said. “ And all this First One tech!”

First One... First One!

“ Adora, there's something I have to tell you,” Catra said. “ Two things! First, this portal Hordak's working on- it'll kill everyone. Mara set a trap- the portal won't lead out, it'll kill us.”

Adora raised an eyebrow. “ Okay, though... how do you even know about the portal he's working on? I only know because Scorpia told me.”

“ Shadow Weaver told us,” Catra said, and Adora nodded.

“ Ah, so _that's_ where she went. Okay. That's the second thing, I imagine? Shadow Weaver joining Brightmoon? You know you can't trust her, right?”

“ Yeah, I know,” Catra said, quietly. “ Better than you, Adora.”

Adora nodded her head, acknowledging that truth.

“ But no, that's not- the second truth is about you, Adora.”

“ Me? What is it?” she asked, standing there, smug and mighty.

“ You're a First One.”

Adora paused.

( Catra would think on that later, that pause, the way everything about Adora just... stopped.)

“ What?” Adora said, her face falling from smugness. “ What did you say?”

“ First One,” Catra spat out. “ You're a First One. Shadow Weaver told us. Hordak opened a portal years ago- dragged you through as a child.”

“ No,” Adora said. “ That's- Shadow Weaver lies all the time. Why believe her now?”

“ She had no reason to lie to _me_ about this,” Catra said. “ You're a First One. This ship- that's your people's history, too. Come on, the First Ones built so much- that's your heritage, Adora! These are _your people_ , this ship was made by _your people_... it'd probably react to you if you tried it. This ship was built by your people!”

“ No, that's... that's... I'm just an orphan,” Adora said.

“ That's why Shadow Weaver was always after you, why she thought the Sword would respond to you,” Catra said. “ You're a First One.”

Adora shook her head. “ Then this ship... it should react to me, right?”

Catra shrugged, and tried not to hear the fragile thing in Adora's voice. “ Try it.”

Adora looked at a nearby control panel, just an innocuous thing on the wall that Catra had never noticed.

She put a hand out to it, a hand that _trembled_.

( Somewhere inside, she thinks of the magic, it's _eagerness_ to serve her; she thinks of how much _better_ she is than the other candidates, even those who are nominally human, like she'd thought she was. She thinks that, somehow, she's always known inside, that Catra saying it unlocks a box in her mind that contains all the truth.)

When she pressed her palm flat against it, the ship whispered, hummed- and glowed blue, presenting her with a list of options in a language she could not read, but that Catra could.

“ Okay,” Adora said, with the calm that comes from shock. “ I'm- I'm sure it does that for everyone.”

“ Test it,” Catra said, smug.

“ Scorpia Two!” Adora yelled, her voice with a thin edge of panic in it. “ Come here!”

A satyr-woman runs into the room, as Catra tries to wrap her head around a “Scorpia Two”; what happened to the old one?

“ Put your hand, palm flat, on that panel,” Adora commanded, and even though the goat woman clearly didn't know why, she obeyed- and the panel turned red, and had no list of commands flowing beneath in holographic format.

“ Oh,” Adora said, in a small voice. “ Scorpia Two, get... get Huntara.”

Soon the big woman is dragged in, and her hand, freed just for the moment, is pressed against the panel... red. Red.

Adora orders her tied back up and dismissed before, hesitantly, she put her palm back. Blue.

“ See?” Catra said. “ It knows you. You're meant to use this thing. You're a First One.”

The commands gleamed, seemed almost eager; it _wanted_ her here, like a long-lost dog finding its beloved owner at last.

Adora trembled.

“ I'm... a First One?” Adora whispered. “ That's what Shadow Weaver said?”

“ Yes,” Catra said. “ Hordak opened a portal and dragged you through it. You're a First One- one of the legendary people who built this world. You're something great, Adora!”

“ Am I?” Adora said, and still she did not turn around; Catra felt the moment slipping away, felt... _something_ breaking, falling apart, though she could not know why.

( Adora, in her own head, pondered what it meant. To be a First One- the legendary forerunners, who had built so much. People regarded as myth, as heroes, as... as everything Adora had proven herself not to be.)

“ Adora?” Catra said, gently.

“ I'm a First One,” Adora said, and she started to... _laugh_.

It was ugly, it was horrible, there was nothing _happy_ in that laughter; but it didn't stop, it rolled on and on and on.

“ Adora!” Catra said, struggling against her bonds.

“ First One,” Adora said, like it was a _punchline_ , like it was the _funniest joke_ anyone had ever told her; she kept laughing, she had tears in her eyes. “ Me? I... with all I've done, I'm a First One! Ahahahahahahaha!”

She turned around, and her _face_ \- Adora was so _hurt_ \- Catra's heart broke in her chest.

“ **Adora!** ”

Adora limped forward, still laughing, put both hands on each side of Catra's face.

“ You don't get it,” she said, in-between her giggles, as she held her so close- and this was almost something Catra wanted, this was _so close_ , but in her fantasies Adora did not laugh this broken laugh, in her fantasies Adora was not so... _hurt_. “ You don't _get_ it, Catra.”

“ Get what?” Catra said, with Adora so close, the tears in her eyes, and she wasn't _laughing_ she was _crying_ and what was going on?!?

“ I murdered a village,” Adora said, distant and lost. “ I murdered a village, burned it to the ground- I've done... so many terrible things, Catra. How... you can't just come here and tell me I'm a First One. Not... not now. Not when I'm a monster. The First Ones did so much, so many wonderful things- how can I- I'm an insult, a freak, a _monster_ , I'm _evil_ , Catra, the way you are so _good_ -”

“ You can change,” Catra said. “ You can still be something great, Adora.”

Then Adora laughed and kissed her.

She kissed her brutally, she kissed her hard, she kissed her in the rough and stupid way of frustrated first kisses all over the world. Their teeth clacked together and Adora's lips were salt-rough from traveling in the sands, she ran a tongue over the sharp teeth in Catra's mouth and cut herself, and their first kiss tasted like blood.

“ No, I can't,” Adora said, and she left.

-

“ Boss?” Lonnie said. Her troop- of course they were outside, of course they'd heard her... laugh.

She almost wanted to laugh again. A First One. Of course. Of course.

She's... she's made so many mistakes. She's a monster, she's a _monster_ , she defies her heritage and her people both to become a beast.

“ My people made this Sword,” Adora said, wavering as she stood there, picking the blade up from where they'd left it outside of Catra's cell.

_You can still be something great, Adora_.

What Catra _meant_ was this: you are better than you have been acting, and you should be a hero.

What Adora _heard_ was this: you were meant for greatness, and have perverted all the promise of your beginning.

“ I'm a monster,” Adora said quietly... then thought of Hordak's portal system, of others coming here. Others, who would see her, and know what she was, and realize how far from grace she'd fallen...

...But a First One... if she is the only First One who has ever been a monster... she has more in common with demons and devils than she knows, she, too, was meant to be a paragon, and now she is... _this_...

She looks past her trio, to the mob of monsters she recruited in the desert. Those are _her_ people, those are the kinds of people she associates with. Thugs and raiders and beasts.

The laughter, curling up inside her again, the horrible hurt that can only express itself in jerking, mirthless chuckles that leave her guts aching. Of course. She was meant to be a First One, to be... to be something amazing, but now...

Now she's just... this.

Her mind clarifies to a single, razor-sharp point.

_If I can never be what I was supposed to be, why should anyone else get to be happy?_

A trap set by Mara, and a portal, that might kill everyone.

The laughter, curling up again, and she lets it out, she laughs.

“ We're going back,” she tells her squad. “ We're returning to the Horde. It's time to open that portal!”

-

Tung, surprised, finds himself in some hidden hall of the ship, safe due to Catra's actions. He moves it, but half-heartedly, aware that his gang can't move the great machine that was dropped in the doorway, and too surprised by the woman's last actions to do much more. Whatever search is done is relativley feeble, and he escapes the noise of it soon enough.

He's deep in the ship... but not so deep he can't leave. He could just wait a bit, drink from this canteen- gift of the trio- and when he figured the gang was asleep, drunk, or gone, sneak back out the way he came.

He could do that, easy.

...She'd saved him. Why? That wasn't how things were _done_ , here in the Waste.

But... maybe where she was from... maybe that's how _they_ did things. What had she said? Brightmoon? He wonders what it must be like, to produce these strange people, tough enough to beat him up but kind enough to give him gifts. He had always assumed the kind were weak, but there was no weakness to be found in that trio; even this last defeat was because the numbers were overwhelming, and the attack itself unexpected. Had they been waiting and ready... who knows, maybe they could have beaten them all. Even caught by surprise, the She-Ra thing had pummeled a bunch into submission...

No... no, they are _not_ weak.

He looks at the canteen in his hands. A gift, from those who'd beaten him- water, so precious in the Waste, that they gave him freely. Tung was one of those rare souls _born_ in the Waste, the desert is the only home he's ever known...

...He could escape, rebuild. Take over after his gang forgets his failures.

But he wonders what this Brightmoon might look like, and what it would be like to live there, and learn how to have this gentle strength.

He thinks of how she saved him, the way no wastelander would have saved him, and thinks that he owes his life to this woman, who had robbed him- and isn't that funny? She took a whip and a jacket from him, and in turn paid him with his life; he owes a debt.

He puts the canteen back on his belt, and stands. He's going to need to learn this damn ship inside out over the course of... like an _hour_.

But he didn't become head of the biggest gang in the Waste because he was a _fool_.

He'll figure out this ship's insides; and he'll use them to sneak around, free the others, and get them _out_.

And then they'll head to Brightmoon, and he'll see if he can learn to be like them.

The lizardman took off, memorizing the pathways, dodging the patrols, and keeping watch.

( Catra's greatest victory; sometimes, she inspires others to stand.)

-

Huntara is tied up as the gang celebrates, and she is so horrified to be caught by the Horde and so terrified of its presence and so hurt by betrayal that she feels... nothing at all.

Nothing except a sense of being... tired.

She is so tired of running. She is so tired of looking in the mirror and realizing that, for all her bravado, she is a coward. She is tired of wondering when the Horde will come for her, now that it finally has; it seems like she wasted so much _time_ being _afraid_...

She is tired of being so scared inside, no matter how tough she acts.

She is... she is so very tired.

( She wonders if the rest she needs is not sleep, but courage; if the thing that might give her peace is not a warm bed, but the cold strength she needs to stand for something.)

Huntara ponders, as the party goes on, as her former subordinates mock her, and unbeknownst to anyone, Tung sees her from a vent he can barely fit his body through, and has an idea.

-

Adora is making ready to leave. She's taking her core group with her, the three soldiers and big Scorpia, as well as Huntara's two former subordinates; they're leaving Huntara behind, but the two asked if they could take her out for some fun first. Getting revenge for Huntara keeping them in line; they drag her into tunnels outside the main areas, laughing as they talk of what they'll do to her.

They get interrupted when two big hands emerge from a passing hallway, grab Scorpia 2, and beat her and her girlfriend senseless with the goat-woman as a flail.

( _Three times?_ The satyr has time to think, before she passes out.)

Huntara's savior emerged from that hallway, and it was the _last_ person she ever expected to see.

“ Tung Lashor?”

“ Hey. You feeling up to rescue work?” he asked.

“ Rescue who?” she asked, wary. What was going on here?'

“ The outsiders,” Tung said. “ Catra, Bow and Glimmer. I'm going to save them. What are you going to do?”

“ Why do you care?” she asked, surprised.

He shrugged. “ Gang abandoned me. I lost, ya know? But... she spared my life when she won my gang. And then... she saved me, when they got jumped. She didn't even know me, and she tried to save me.”

Huntara looked at Lashor, at the ridiculously-named lizard man, who was showing more guts than she had in... in years.

A coin flipped in Huntara's mind- but just once, to her credit, it did not take her long to decide.

She was so tired of running.

“ Then free me, and let's go save them,” Huntara said.

Tung untied her, and she held her spear in her hand as Lashor grabbed the blowpipe and some darts.

“ I know where they are, come on!” she ordered, the duo taking off.

A few guards are in the way. They aren't there for long; Huntara was the strongest in the Waste until the coming of She-Ra, and Lashor was the second strongest, despite his name. Blowpipe darts and punches cleared the path, and soon, they are cutting the three brave youngsters free.

Huntara grabbed the punky princess and the techhead, while Tung, with surprising grace, picked up the princess of power.

They fled into the desert, and Huntara, despite the weight in her arms, feels lighter at heart than she'd felt in... years.

For the first time in far too long, she was running, not _from_ something, but _towards_ something; towards the Alliance, towards courage, towards peace in her heart at last. Towards the war, towards a fight with Hordak, towards a day when she can look herself in the mirror and say “I am no coward.”

And thus, with _Tung Lashor_ of all people at her side, the duo manage to steal a hovercraft and escape the Waste, the Best Friends Trio waking up safe and sound to their friendly faces in a few hours.

-

The Trio escapes. Adora doesn't care.

She has a world to end.

( She'll die too, and isn't _that_ the best part of all this? She will get, finally, to _stop_ , to stop hurting people, to stop being awful, to... to _rest_.)

They go home, and she tells them nothing, nothing of the trap, of Mara's work- of the world ending.

But inside, that laughter licks her veins, and she trembles.

-

Back in Brightmoon, things moved fast. Angella was informed of what had transpired- and apparently the Queen _did not_ know they were going to the Waste, which Catra was _not_ pleased by.

“ I'm sorry,” she told the Queen, tail lashing nervously behind her. “ She told me you knew- I'm so sorry.”

“ It's alright, Catra,” Angella replied, giving her a small smile. “ I know you would not have went without my permission.”

Catra smiled a bit at that.

“ It is Glimmer who defies orders,” the Queen said, and turned a frown and angry eyes on her daughter.

( Inside, Glimmer fumed- and something _jealous_ peeked out through her heart with green eyes.)

After Glimmer's dressing down, they are sent out. Glimmer left to be by herself- and in time, to talk with Shadow Weaver with no one else's knowledge- while Bow and Catra saw to Huntara and Lashor's settling in. Huntara and Lashor are hailed as heroes and given new things; they saved the Best Friend Trio, after all, so Brightmoon loves them, though rumors circulate about Catra's lack of the Sword, and what it means.

Catra ignored those rumors, for now, focusing on her new companions. She'll... she'll worry about it later.

( They'll get it back. Soon, too- or that portal- Adora... her _pain_ , that horrible laughter... how is she supposed to be able to save her? She doesn't know where to start; but Princesses save people, and even without the Sword, Catra is a _Princess._ )

Lashor, in particular, asks to join them, and he receives a new jacket, one with Brightmoon's symbol on its back. Lashor looked surprisingly good in a Brightmoon uniform; his grin was almost infectious, as he displayed his new allegiance for all the world to see.

But his smile turned to awe when Catra gave him his whip back.

“ One good turn deserves another,” Catra said, and he laughed as he cracked it, an old friend returned.

“ Don't you need that without the Sword?” Bow asked, and Catra shook her head.

“ I forgot something very important,” Catra said, and held up one hands, claws growing into shining blades.

“ I've had five swords on each hand my whole life.”

It's a good line, and it gets Tung to laugh and back down; but privately Catra wondered about it. What use was she, without the Sword?

_Don't think like that. You've still got your mouth and your mind- stick with it, Catra._ A voice of courage inside her, that she had used in the Fright Zone to keep her spirits up when she got scared or nervous... needed again, now, without the Sword, comforting and familiar.

She leaned on it, as Glimmer sends a message for them to come see Shadow Weaver.

The plan is laid out. They need to get to the Fright Zone; the only route is through Shadow Weaver, with Glimmer's help. Apparently the princess had talked with the monster, and the two had come up with a plan.

“ I can't,” Catra said, when the mission is laid out. “ Queen Angella said no.”

“ You never had trouble disobeying _me_ ,” Shadow Weaver noted. “ Why balk at disobeying Angella?”

_Because she's a better mother than you, and thus deserves obedience more_ , Catra almost said, but the words still choke in her mouth, so she said in lieu of the truth, “ Queen Angella has my loyalty more than you do.”

“ If we don't go now, we all die!” Glimmer snapped out. “ Come on, Catra, you know this! Does Hordak strike you as the type to _wait?_ It might already be too late!”

After a long moment of hesitaiton, Bow, quielty, said, “ Catra, Queen Angella will _die_ if that portal is activated.”

She's almost impressed; Bow has a talent for manipulation, too, it seemed, and she cannot reject the truth of his words.

( But she thought of Angella telling her she was trustworthy, and it _hurt_ her, to betray her like this, even to save her life.)

So, afraid, Catra agreed, and with an army of Princesses at her back, Catra went to invade the Fright Zone for the second time.

-

The battle at the Fright Zone is a rolling ball of violence that wrecks the joint, the group charging recklessly through. Adora tries to get Shadow Weaver to join her; she refuses, and Adora flees rather than fight her mother. With Glimmer backing her, Shadow Weaver is a juggernaut, and soon enough, the army of Princesses punches through to the inner sanctums, to the deeper workings of this palace of tyranny.

Catra gets captured, and dragged before Entrapta by robots; but she's still awake, and so Catra- who is getting uncomfortably familiar with being tied up by bad guys- runs her mouth.

“ Why does Hordak want this stupid portal open anyway?” Catra asks. And Entrapta, bless her, tells her everything, puts all the pieces together for Catra- a clone, a defect, an abandonment, and a rise.

Catra's heart is, unexpectedly, full of pain, aches for Hordak- she knows that suffering, she knows that pain. What he has done with it is unforgivable... but she gets it. She might be one of the only people who does.

But she will think of that later. She must... she must press forward now, stop this portal from activating.

And she remembers a garden, and a thing Perfuma has done, that she tells few people of.

“ Perfuma built a statue of you, Entrapta,” Catra says. “ We never forgot you.”

Entrapta is caught at that, stares at her, and Catra knows the hooks are _in._

Manipulation is always a talent she has possessed, something she had to have to survive under Shadow Weaver, but nothing is bad all the time; she can use this for good, she can use it to save Entrapta.

“ The Princess Alliance still exists, and it still needs you, Entrapta,” Catra says. “ You're still a Princess, aren't you?”

“ But Hordak- he needs me,” Entrapta says.

“ If he opens that portal, what do you think will happen to him?” she asks. There's a connection there; some unexpected friendship, something to work with. “ He'll die with the rest of us, Entrapta. If you want him safe, you need to let me go. You have my word I won't hurt him, not if he agrees to turn the portal off.”

Entrapta agrees, sets her free, and off they go, as the Princesses continue rampaging through the facility, buying them time to save the world.

-

Soon enough, they run into Adora and Scorpia, who seems uncomfortable standing near the blonde.

“ Catra,” Adora said. “ How nice to see you.”

“ Adora, it'll kill everyone if you activate it!” Entrapta said. “ You and your friends too!”

“ They're lying,” Adora said to Scorpia. “ Entrapta's been tricked.”

“ I did the math, Scorpia!” Entrapta said. “ Catra didn't trick me, please, _trust me!_ ”

Scorpia nodded. “ Adora, we should let them through.”

“ Oh?” Adora said. “ That's interesting.”

“ I mean, if Entrapta says it,” Scorpia continued, but did not have time to finish, because Adora stabbed her in the throat with the electrical baton.

“ Scorpia!” Entrapta yelled, though the scientist had to dodge as the baton came at her next, Adora charging down the hall even as Scorpia's big form slumped down.

“ I never did like either of you,” Adora growled through her hellhound plate mask, swinging and swinging.

Without the Sword- without She-Ra- Catra can't beat her, has no weapons that can penetrate that armor... but Entrapta saved her from having to try.

“ Get to him!” the tech-princess yelled, ordering bots to help her fight Adora. “ I'll stall her here!”

Catra took off like a shot, down into the darkness, hoping against hope she could stop Hordak from destroying himself and the world.

-

Her squad finally found her just as she managed to catch Entrapta with the baton. Entrapta fell, but her bots evacuated her, escaping deeper into the facility; damn.

“ Boss, what happened here?” Lonnie asked.

“ Scorpia and Entrapta betrayed us,” Adora said, lips moving swiftly and smoothly over the lie. She lies so often now that she almost forgets it _is_ lies, truth is becoming a foreign concept to her now. “ They let the Princesses in.”

Gasps and angry denials- but who cared? She shook her head at her crew.

“ I know, I didn't want to believe it either. But they did. Entrapta's escaped- but we need to get to Hordak.”

“ What about this one?” Kyle asked, pointing at Scorpia.

An idea, brilliant in it cruelty, flares to life in Adora's mind.

“ Put her on a transport to Beast Island like the traitor she is,” Adora said, with a smile. “ Rog, you do it. Kyle, Lonnie, with me!”

And then they are chasing Catra, chasing her to the end of everything.

-

It's just Catra and Hordak in his central chamber, the Sword- _her_ Sword- floating in the air, getting ready to kickstart the apocalypse.

They've been fighting; his suit makes him so strong, but Catra's fast enough to dodge anything he's got. He throws the room at her, she dodges and cuts at his face to little effect.

It's a stalemate.

So Catra does what she does best: she talks.

“ Hordak, you do this, and he comes through, he's not going to save you,” Catra yells. She wants... she wants to save him. He's like her. It's a weird feeling, to understand him, to be connected with this man who has existed in her mind only as a figure of terror and legend.

But she's been defective, too, she has someone who has only ever looked at her with contempt and disgust, when she wanted only their love. Hordak's sins outweigh the stars, and yet... she wants to save him. She is a Princess with the sword and a Princess without it, and Princesses save people, if they can. And he is kin of hers, in a way, kin through shared pain and shared experiences, even if he himself is responsible for some of her suffering.

“ If he comes through, he will destroy you, he will take your victories for his own. You watched me grow up under Shadow Weaver, come on, you know how she treated me. And that's how Horde Prime's treated you.”

“ You don't know what you're talking about,” he growls, picking up a heavy piece of machinery and chucking it at her. Catra dodges, eyes still on the portal and the sword, and... oh shit, there's Adora, she's in the room with Lonnie and Kyle, her helmet's off and she's _giggling_ again, echo of that terribe laughter.

But then Perfuma breaks through a wall nearby, and thank whatever is or is not for her presence; the pretty plant princess has the bloodlust for this, Adora's too busy trying not to be murdered by rose thorns and pumpkin vines to bother with the portal.

Catra's got some more time to talk, even as Hordak looks over to see what _new_ bullshit is happening in his lair.

“ I do!” she yells. “I'm the only person here who _does_ know what I'm talking about, who could _ever_ understand you! Hordak, come on! I grew up here! Did Shadow Weaver ever tell you about me? Did she ever tell you about my successes? Or did she focus on her perfect kid over there and ignore me? Horde Prime's not gonna be happy to see you, he's going to dismiss you and destroy you and kill the rest of us!”

“ HE WILL SEE I AM NOT A FAILURE!” Hordak screams, and there it is; that's the core of the Horde on Etheria, that's the sentence that's written on Hordak's heart, that's the reason for everything. Child soldiers and the burning of villages and so much death, so much horror, all because of a single sentence.

Catra would laugh, except that her own heart aches at his words, this is pain of her pain, there was a sentence like that written on her heart too, once. (S _he will love me, Shadow Weaver will love me if I only just..._ )

“ He will _always_ see you as a failure!” Catra responds. “ Just the way Shadow Weaver will always hate _me_! Don't do this! You can be better than this! We can both surpass them!”

“ Why do you care?” Hordak snarls.

“ Because I'm...,” she says, but pauses- takes a breath- and then goes ahead. She bets the farm. “ Because... I'm just like you. Same thing happened to both of us. They made us and then they threw us out, and called us deficient for things we couldn't control. It hurts. It hurts like hell.”

“ But we didn't break, did we? Both of us have risen. Monstrous as this is, the Horde's a hell of an accomplishment. And I became She-Ra. Not just because of the sword, but because I am worthy- I don't have the sword now, but here I am, still leading the Alliance. I'm worthy. Not just because I'm She-Ra, but because I, Catra, am worthy. And Shadow Weaver will never admit it. Just like Horde Prime will never admit that you are worthy, no matter what you accomplish, no matter that you _are_ worthy.”

She breathes heavily. It hurts, to be so open about something so personal, to tell the entire world the truth about herself. “ You hit that switch, you open that gate, and it's the end for everybody. You included. And that's even if whatever Mara did doesn't blow us all to hell first.”

Hordak looks at her, and Catra realizes that despite growing up under this man, it's the first time he's ever actually _seen_ her, really _seen_ her instead of just looking her over. He _looks_ at her, and then he looks at Shadow Weaver, and she sees the decision in his eyes- a coin, flipping over and over, saying that he has a choice.

“ You can't possibly be listening to her, she's worthless,” Adora says, and Catra could almost hug her for it, it's literally the worst thing she could have said right now, and Hordak's eyes narrow, and the coin flips ever faster.

Catra plays her last card, puts everything on the table and ante's up.

“ He'll kill Entrapta and Scorpia, Hordak,” she says, quietly.

There is a pause, and the coin lands.

“ Adora, enough,” Hordak says, calmly, the calm that comes when you have decided to upend your whole life and change. “ The portal... leave it. We... we are done.”

Adora, betrayed, stares at Hordak- glares at Catra- eyes flick towards the switch-

“ Adora, NO!” Catra yells, and leaps- but she is not fast enough. Perfuma strikes too, lashes out with a vine, but she is not fast enough either, Adora is on the switch first.

The switch is flipped. Adora's laughter rings all over the room.

“ You'll die!” Catra yells. Adora looks at her, and she sees... nothing in there. Nothing at all.

“ So will you,” Adora whispers, and then reality _breaks_.

-

“ Everything's perfect,” Adora says, her white teeth shining bright, and Catra has to agree. Everything's... perfect.

The Horde is doing great; the plan to conquer Etheria is going swimmingly well. Lonnie, Kyle, and Rogello have really stepped up since Adora became Force Captain, with Catra at her side. They've crushed Rebellion outposts all over Etheria.

Not that it's all been military achievements. Catra has proven an able diplomat; she got Brightmoon to kneel, in exchange for some concessions. Hordak wasn't too happy about that, but Adora's so popular and powerful that he cannot gainsay her- and she will not gainsay the woman she loves.

So Queen Angella and her people are safe. The Queen even adopted Catra, her own innermost desire; Shadow Weaver had been cruel to her, which is why she was so grateful to Adora for sending her to Beast Island. It had been Catra's reward, for figuring out a way in which Brightmoon might survive in a world where the Horde ruled.

But that thought is not on her mind right now. Right now, she and Adora are at their favorite spot, a tall place in the Fright Zone, above everything, and they are kissing.

It's... nice. They settle into a rhythm, holding each other, kissing- Catra licking where her too-sharp teeth have nicked Adora's human flesh.

_First One_ , Catra's mind whispers- why?... but no, ignore it, focus on Adora, alive and warm and in her arms, the way she's supposed to be, the Horde's great commander, Hordak reduced to a scientist in his own organization.

Kiss her, and kiss your troubles away.

-

Everything's _wrong_. An old woman dances the halls, calling her Mara- telling her- what is going on, what is

**hap**

_pen_

ing

__________________ ___________________________________ __________________

The collapse of the world is so much _worse_ than she'd thought it would be, and Catra, frankly, had never thought the end of the world would be _nice_.

But this... physics has gone _wrong_ , this is reality with leprosy, this is mathematical cancer. The world... it is breaking apart, it is coming undone at the seams. The center cannot hold, and left and right spin off into infinities. Terrible darkness and terrible light battle back and forth over the scattered remnants of places and people that might have been and once-were.

And Adora- Adora is after her again.

“ We could have been happy!” she spits at her. “ We could have been- we could have been _we_ , don't you get it?”

“ Adora, this is all collapsing!” Catra yells back at her, as Adora swings her fists, she misses a punch that hits a wall and Catra can _hear_ the bones in her hand crunch, but Adora just keeps swinging anyway, the pain means nothing compared to the pain inside her heart. “ This isn't stable- I love you too, but we have to- we _can't_ , Adora! We can't stay here!”

“ This is the only place we _can_ stay,” Adora moans, lost and hurt. “ A world where I didn't burn that village to the ground. A world with no blood on my hands- where I'm _new_ and _innocent_ again- where I'm not a fucking First One! Where I haven't failed my people, even if I didn't know it...”

She sobs.

“ It's the only world where we can be together! Where I can be _happy!_ ”

“ Adora, please-” Catra pleads with her, but Adora just keeps attacking, her left hand a busted and bleeding thing she nonetheless wielded as a weapon against her.

“ Why can't you just be happy?” Adora screams at her. “ What do you _want_?”

“ I want to be back in Brightmoon,” Catra replies. “ I want to beat the Horde. You can join me, Adora. Please, it's not too late.”

Adora weeps, messy and ugly- oh, Adora, Adora, Catra's heart breaks again and again. _Adora_.

“ I can't- I can't... I'm a monster...”

“ You can always change,” Catra says, but Adora simply punches her again.

“ No! No I can't! Why... why couldn't you just have.... we could have been _happy_ here!”

Reality began to break again, that terrible light approaching, even as Catra dodged Adora's berserk strikes.

“ Look around you, Adora!” Catra yells. “ This world's falling apart! It's _ending!”_

“ My world ended the day you left,” Adora snarls.

Then Adora is on her, and her eyes gleam with a surge of exhilarating pain, her left hand is on Catra's throat and it is _squeezing_ even as the Fright Zone burns up in light all around them.

“ If I can't be happy,” Adora growls, “ neither can you.”

And Catra, trying to save herself, kicks Adora off of her, and she falls into the light.

“ **Adora!** ” Catra yells, but she is gone, and Catra runs, runs to Brightmoon, desperately hoping Angella can fix this.

-

Adora, falling- her magic- would magic even work, in a universe that was falling apart?

Who knew, who _cared_ , Adora started to _laugh_ even as she cast, and then her left side was burning, the _light_... it entered her broken and bruised knuckles, it tore her arm apart to get inside her, and she _gets_ it, light is just fire, how can people forget that? Every light comes somewhere from something _burning_.

And now Adora was burning, too.

The light.

( the light the light the light the light the light the light the _light_ )

-

Catra's feet found the path to Brightmoon, to a kingdom which flew a Horde flag above its own, but that was otherwise unharmed. Her fantasy, she supposed; the dancing grandma-woman, whose name was Madam Razz (or at least, that's how she introduced herself to Catra), had said the world was built on fantasies.

And Catra knew herself well enough to know the only fantasy she has- Angella as her mother.

“ Queen Angella, something's wrong,” Catra told her, as soon as she could- and seeing Micah sitting there, she _hated_ herself for what she knew she had to say, the thing Angella might remember.

But manipulation was Catra's truest talent, and it did not steer her wrong.

“ Micah's dead, my Queen,” Catra told her, and the hurt of that begins to drive Angella back to understanding, even as she screamed at Catra.

( But Micah's last words, before they escape, Angella carrying Catra in her arms... not dead?... No, it must be an illusion, an effect of this strange spell.)

-

They went to Entrapta next- back to the Fright Zone, or what's left of it. The effect was chasing Catra; each place she goes is doomed to die, so they must do this _fast_ , if they are to do it at all. Angella carried her in her arms, and despite everything, Catra drew strength from that touch, drew comfort from it.

“ I'm sorry I couldn't stop this,” she told her, voice low and quiet.

“ This is not your fault,” Angella said, as she held her.

“ I'm sorry we attacked despite your orders,” Catra said, and tried not to sob. The Queen had put such faith in her, and she had _betrayed_ that faith; she feels sick to her guts with it. She'd done it _after_ Angella had told her she knew she wouldn't do such a thing...

But Angella... _hugged_ her, awkwardly gripping her tight as she flew.

“ Given all that's happened, I say you made the right choice,” she answered. “ I... I am a bit of a coward, Catra. I fear doing things- I've lost so much, to my own actions... But this... I was wrong. You were right, to take off. I owe Glimmer an apology.”

Heart buoyed on that, Catra hugged her back as best she could, as they reached the Fright Zone, which Catra noted clinically was _miles_ closer than it should have been- yet another effect of this shattering world.

-

In this make-believe world, Hordak's work is eternally interrupted by Entrapta and Scorpia, who drag him along into their lives, and he is at peace, working in his lab when they are not engaging him with whatever antics they are up to, his body not a rotting thing but functioning properly.

His calculations and conputers reveal what is going on, in time, and he is forced to remember what Catra said, and look around himself, at this world- at this reflection of his innermost heart.

Is this... truly all he wants? In his heart of hearts?

To be with the people he cares about, forever, free to work on his science in a body that does not hurt. To be full of the terrible sweetness he has learned to call happiness.

That isn't so bad.

He thinks on that, even as he escapes the destruction of reality, making his way towards the center of it all, the sword.

-

As they reached the Fright Zone, Angella was blasted out of the air by a fireball. They both fall, Angella burning, Catra screaming- she landed on her feet, of course, blessed be her catlike reflexes, she moved to run to Angella's side but between her and the smoldering royal is...

Oh, _Gods_.

Adora. Adora, but not Adora; she is remade, half of her is a sickening sunrise, her left side nothing but brilliant glare. Her left eye glowed with awful light, and even Catra, who would always choose the light and the heat over darkness, flinched from the sight of it.

This was no life-giving sun, nor comforting campfire light, but something so terrible it was almost magnificent, immense glory with equally immense sadism, the arrogant laughter of newborn stars. This was the light of vicious angels, who spread their wings and declared themselves God, the demonic light cast by the fires of Hell.

Adora's right eye was still human... but it was still horrible, for in it Catra found no care or affection, just starry-eyed, bouncy _fury_. The space between her light and her flesh curled, smoked, she could smell Adora _cooking_ and _burning_ even as she approached.

“ Catra.... Catra...” Adora said, “ Let's... talk.”

She swung a burning fist at Catra, and fire trailed after it.

“ This is all my fault,” Adora moaned, as they battled. “ This is my fault... you're so good, Catra, you're so good. But a thing is good or a thing is bad and I... hahahahahahahhahahahaha!”

That laughter, horrible, coughed out of lungs burning to ash even as Adora attacked her, Catra dodging, trying to get around her, but Adora was so _fast_ , she moved fast as light, fast as wildfire flickering through the treetops of a dry forest, her left foot leaving burning patches in the ground with each step.

“ I'm _bad_ , Catra, I'm _wrong_ , I'm the monster... finish this! Kill me!” Adora demanded. “ You're the hero, finish this!”

“ I am the hero,” Catra muttered. “ I am, aren't I? And you... I'll save you,l Adora. I'll save you from yourself.”

“ No!” Adora roared, and tried to knock her out with one great haymaker. Catra countered, clawing her front, stabbing her in the non-burning wrist, throwing her with a twist of her hips into a doorway. Still Adora kept yelling, almost barking out her words. “ You can't save me! You can't!”

“ I will,” Catra said, as she grabbed at a nearby piece of equipment and threw it atop wounded Adora, joining it with others, making makeshift bars that Adora could not lift. “ I won't rest until the day you stand with me in Brightmoon. I'll save you.”

“ You can't,” Adora whined.

“ I will,” Catra said, and bent down, and gave her a quick kiss, before running off to check on Angella.

“ My Queen!” Catra said, as she ran up to her, as the woman put out the last fire on her wings.

“ I'm fine,” Angella said, fluttering her wings experimentally, the delicate pinions restoring themselves even as Catra watched. “ I'm _really_ hard to hurt, thankfully.”

Catra gave her a smile, and they descended into the last darkness.

-

The Sword, high above them. It needs to be pulled out...

Angella's eyes flicker to it, and harden, and Catra _sees_ that look, she _knows_ what she's thinking- no, no, she _can't_.

“ Angella! NO!”

“ But Catra- the Sword-”

“ No! You owe me! I saved your life once, you owe me! Don't do this! I demand it, you owe me!”

“ Catra...” Angella says, but stops, seeing the tears running down Catra's face. Tears, from the great warrior, who does not cry, who hates to cry.

“ Don't leave me,” Catra begs her. “ Don't leave me like Shadow Weaver does. Please.”

And then they are both saved, and by the last person imaginable.

“ There's no need for tears,” a cold voice says from nearby. Hordak, impossibly, has made it here, clambers atop this strange not-place's platform from some memory of his home. He stands up tall, taller than Catra has ever seen him before, his composure is fit for a king and his voice is sure and certain as midnight.

“ I will remove the sword.”

Angella and Catra stare at him, and he laughs. “ Suspicious? Of what?”

“ I... I don't know,” Catra admits, and he chuckles. Dark humor has always been his forte.

“ No trick. If I had any tricks I would have used them already. But that sword- it will kill... everyone. If it is not removed, then none of you will live... I die either way. Let me die doing this. Let me save Entrapta and Scorpia. No one will miss me, the way they will miss you, Queen Angella; no one but those two.”

Angella stares at him for a long moment, then nods her head. “ What is your price?”

“ Take care of Entrapta and Scorpia,” he answers. “ Forgive them their services to me, and protect them both from retribution. That is the only price I ask.”

“ Why?” Queen Angella asks, and Hordak gives a small, sad smile.

“ Because they are the only people I care for, and if you die, that sin will be on their heads too- and the Alliance won't accept them, in that scenario. And... there is the matter of my brother. They will need the Princess Alliance, if my brother is truly coming. I cannot save them, but you can... and I can save you. Simple math. By subtracting myself from the situation, I can preserve them. They are all that matters to me.”

“ Then I swear by Grayskull's honor that I will defend them,” Catra answers, and Hordak nods in thanks as Queen Angella repeats the oath.

“ Then carry me up to my death, Queen Angella- and try not to be so happy about it, it's rude.”

And that's just funny enough that they laugh, breaking the tension his presence had brought, and for a moment, they are not She-Ra, Queen Angella, and Hordak, not a rebel queen and the Horde's master and one who had served both, but merely three survivors of this disaster, and when Angella carries her archnemesis to his ending, she is gentle.

As they reach the sword, Hordak looks up at her. “ Queen Angella,” he says, “ if my brother is truly coming through that portal... you will all need to work together. Entrapta knows many of the secrets of my technology. She can use that to help you.”

“ We will be ready for him when he comes,” Angella answers, and Hordak gives her another small, sad smile.

“ No, you won't be,” he answers, but then they are near the blade and there is no more time for words.

-

Hordak grips the sword tight, activates the jets Entrapta had put into his suit, and pulls with all the strength that Entrapta gave him. His heart is a storm of emotions he does not know how to handle, but he thinks this is the right thing to do, when he considers what he is doing it feels _right_ ; like his inexperienced hands are nonetheless making the right choice, that he has fumbled into greatness.

He has changed, in this last hour, he has changed, and change always counts, even to the end- an end that rapidly approaches. The power rips through him. Hurts like hell.

Doesn't matter.

Pain is an old friend. And Hordak does this in service to his new friends, for Entrapta, for Scorpia, for... for himself, surprisingly, he does this to honor the only people who have ever made him _happy_. Happiness is worth dying for, he'd heard an enemy soldier say once, before they executed him. It is one of the four things you can die for that are worth it, that long-dead man said, freedom and justice and self-defense and happiness, those are things worth dying for- and Hordak is a monster, he knows not freedom nor justice, and he is always the aggressor in his conflicts, but he has learned of happiness, and in dying he comes to agree with the dead.

They will live, because he does this.

That is worth dying for.

And in the last moment, when the sword is removed, and reality warps back, right before whatever is going to happen to him happens, Hordak's last feeling is not despair or sorrow but _happiness_ , the terrible sweetness that is _happiness_ , and a triumphant laugh will be the last sound on his lips.

-

Entrapta is back in Dryll now. She'd been... somewhere in the Fright Zone when things happened, and she made her way out, though no one has been able to find Scorpia.

She made a single stop at Perfuma's palace, to see her topiary statue and to find, to her stunned and tearful surprise, a new topiary statue of Hordak there- not Hordak the Conqueror, not Hordak who destroyed, but Hordak the Savior, Hordak with the Sword in his hands, pulling it up and out, the way Catra described him to the flower maiden.

Hordak in his last moment, Hordak who changed, who sacrificed himself so that Eternia might survive, who changed in his last hour and, because of that change, made the choice to die so that others might live.

Entrapta had slammed her face mask down, thanked Perfuma with a voice thick with unspoken words, and then ran off, not able to handle the emotions surging through her skin like electricity. Catra, meanwhile... she had been floored, when she found out.

Perfuma had not told any of them she did this, had simply done it because she thought it _should_ be done... and Catra finds herself so touched that she simply hugs Perfuma, who laughs in delight at the unexpected gift and returns it full-fold.

Redemption is vital to Catra, it is important, it _matters_ to her, it is the story of her life and the sentence written on her heart now, and to see Perfuma acknowledge it in her most hated foe is so beautiful that Catra almost weeps. Catra, almost crying, which she has never done before anyone but her closest friends and family before, and all at this beautiful tribute to Hordak's first and only act of heroism.

“ Perfuma,” Catra says, haltingly, hugging her tight, “ Thank you for this.”

Perfuma just smiles and hugs her tighter. “ It's alright,” she says, “ I understand.”

And she does, and that is enough.

( Entrapta does, too; in time, a letter comes, thanking Perfuma, and telling her that she must but ask, and Entrapta will seek to fulfill any request she has.)

Half the Alliance wants Entrapta's head, but Catra honors her oath and her feelings and defends her to the others. Entrapta is too much like her, she must believe she can repent, and change; and she is the best Princess. Princesses save people. Even and especially from themselves.

( And... if truth be told... if she is going to save Adora, she must start with saving others, too, redemption will have to become a skill as close to Catra as manipulation, if she is to save Adora from herself. And Entrapta had, once upon a time, been one of theirs, is a good person to practice this with.)

Catra and Angella spend every favor they have trying to convince the others to agree, and it pays off- just barely; Frosta is the hardest to convince, but all agree eventually. Mermista alone backs them up with no question and no cajoling required; when asked why, she shrugs and tells Catra the plain truth- she's her friend, and she can tell this is important to her.

Catra doesn't hug her- that's not how their friendship works- but the handshake is firm, and they share a smile, friend to friend.

So at day's end, the agreement is made; Entrapta is to be left alone, so long as she contributes in the new war against Hordak's brother. It helps that they can all confirm that, whatever sins they are guilty of, Hordak Prime's arrival is not one of them; Adora pulled that switch.

Glimmer has been strange, since the battle- spends a lot of time with Shadow Weaver, who has a garden now. Bow works on new things, and tries to get Entrapt's advice, though the tech genius is now even more reclusive than she once was, fired her staff- who come to Brightmoon, and become Catra's personal retainers.

And... somewhere, Adora is now the leader of the Horde, until such time as Hordak's brother arrives.

( They'll win that war when they come to it; and she'll save her. She swears this to herself.)

-

In Dryll, Entrapta works.

This is not new. In Dryll, Entrapta has always worked, and she has learned... so many things. How to make robots. How to run scientific experiments. How to make tiny food.

But in the Horde, she learned more. Not just about science, but about... a very special something, something she cannot talk about, something that has now been _taken_ from her. She has heard others talk of it, others who still have it, and she cannot help but hate them a little, for still having this precious thing she has lost. It was a terrible sweetness, a sharp wound that was so _good_ , and now it is gone, she has lost something of incalculable value.

For a time, in the Horde, she had a box of jewels in her hands, she was adorned with divine riches, there was a beautiful treasure in that ugly place that she cannot buy back... and now, it is gone.

_He's_ gone.

He's gone and dead and they were _so close_ to a happy ending, so close, so close. Catra had been right. Catra had promised that the portal would take her happiness from her, and had tried to stop it. Catra has defended her to the others, has allowed her to take Dryll back, because she made a promise to... to him.

Yes, Catra has been correct so far. Catra is a friend, and Entrapta holds her blameless for what has happened. Holds Angella blameless, too; once the portal switch was flipped, what had to happen was what had to happen. She is a mathematician at heart, after all; she knows that some equations only lead to one result, have no variables in them at all. Once the switch was flipped, there was only one result possible.

She cannot blame any of the three who made the choice that killed him. He was one of those three, after all, he chose of his own free will to save them all, further proof that the hot and warm pearl of joy in her chest was not wrong. He had greatness in him, and if the portal had not been opened, he would still be here, still able to find that greatness in his imperfections she had sensed.

Catra... Cata had seen that greatness in him, she would have found a solution, some way for him to stay. And Perfuma, she at least has a forgiving heart, she would have helped.

( The statue... she owes the plant girl, the equation waits to be fulfilled. Two kindnesses from Perfuma, a memorial for Entrapta and a memorial for Hordak; Entrapta will finish the equation, return kindness for kindness.)

They could have all lived, happily ever after... save for her.

Adora.

_ **ADORA.** _

( She grinds her teeth so hard on the thought of that name she fears they will crack.)

In Dryll, Entrapta works. But she does not have her servants anymore. She has sent them on with particularly large payments, because what is money to her? She can make more if she must, order robots to mine until she has things to trade for what she needs... and revenge is such a small thing, at day's end. She needs so few resources.

In Dryll, Entrapta works. But she does not work the way she once did, with fun and joy; no.

She puts on her mask- the same mask that had been burnt in the portal's awakening- and she works with grim seriousness.

She has a single goal.

_Kill Adora._

For she has learned one last lesson, from her time in the Horde, that she now applies to her time in Dryll.

She has learned how to hate.

( She is crying under the mask, even as her visage twists into a rictus of rage.)

She puts her recorder to her mask, to the shattered, rounded thing that was once a proper welder's mask, that is now her shield against the world that has hurt her so.

“ Experiment log 98013. The First One's weapon.... Etheria. Beginning plans to take control...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are changing- and I'm excited for Season 5! I'll get Season 4 out soon.
> 
> The times, they are a'changing...


End file.
